


Earthrise in Your Eyes

by cinderellasleftshoe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Astronaut Dean Winchester, Astronaut Sam Winchester, F/F, Flight Director Castiel, International Space Station, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-05-14 14:30:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19275232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderellasleftshoe/pseuds/cinderellasleftshoe
Summary: Captain Dean Winchester is a US astronaut and mission commander on the International Space Station (ISS). When Flight Director Jody Mills unexpectedly goes on early family leave, she is replaced by Castiel. Dean had very briefly known Castiel ten years ago when Dean was passing through Marshall Space Center in Huntsville, Alabama, where Castiel was a new flight controller. After a steamy weekend, the men parted ways, but Dean often thought about what happened to Cas.Castiel has a lot to prove in this highest of profiles assignment. Jody left him big shoes to fill, he doesn't want to screw it up by being unprofessional, and he believes in keeping work separate from personal. Seeing the astronaut from his past may have caused his heart to stutter, but that only strengthened Cas’ position – you just don’t shit where you eat. Dean's mission: to crack Castiel's resolve and earn himself a date when he’s back on earth. Will Cas give in to the sparkling green eyes? Or will Dean's pining and flirting leave him as cold and lonely as the vacuum of space?Your basic boy meets boy. Boy loses boy. Boy tries to get boy back love story. From orbit.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is nearly finished and will post Wednesdays and Sundays (unless I get impatient and finish it faster.)
> 
>  
> 
> I started this in October 2018, then set it aside for months as my life piled on the responsibilities. I picked it up again, mid-June 2019, as something to do during the many games of Women’s World Cup I’m watching. 
> 
> Everything I know, which is not very much tbh, about space stuffs was learned from watching movies, reading science fiction, and surfing around NASA sites. I’ll try to include some details to keep it real, and some notes to explain when I’m keeping it real. But, this is a work of fiction, and I’m not an astronaut. This fic is based on a prompt from @palominopup.
> 
> Keywords and key concepts:
> 
> ISS stands for International Space Station, the utterly amazing lab in space, and @Palominopup’s picture for one of her “Picture Prompt Tuesday”s back in October 2018.
> 
> EVA means extravehicular activity, also known as a spacewalk 
> 
> CRONUS is Communication Radio Frequency Onboard Network Utilization Specialist - the job title for the flight controller who handles the communications systems between MC and the ISS.
> 
> MC stands for Mission Control. Everything I know about Mission Control is from movies. I made all of this dialogue up in true fiction form; all mistakes and misinformation are my own.
> 
> All those people who sit at consoles in MC are called flight controllers. There is one console in MC for each corresponding system in ISS, and the astronauts who do work on the ISS system coordinate with their counterparts in MC who have deep knowledge of those systems. Of the flight controllers in MC, five are in charge of the “core” or most important systems. Over all of them is a flight director. There’s a flight director for each shift in MC, and the senior flight director on the space center is called the “chief flight director.”
> 
> Johnson Space Center in Houston, TX is responsible for operations on the ISS.
> 
> Marshall Space Center in Huntsville, AL is responsible for all the technology and inventory transfers from earth to the ISS.
> 
> Deepest thanks to @Herroyalgoddess for all of their effort and encouragement in helping me make this fic into something readable. XO

 

  
[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/158018569@N04/48202117511/in/dateposted-public/)

 

“Mission Control, this is Captain Dean Winchester bringing you rockin’ tunes from radio ISS.”

“Morning, Dean, this is Johnson Mission Control, you’re coming in clear enough to count the freckles on your ass,” Jody snarked with a smile for the boyish astronaut on her monitor.

“You checkin’ out my fine ass, boss, you should at least buy me breakfast first. How ‘bout some chicken and waffles from that place over on Travis Street?” Captain Dean Winchester, commander of the International Space Station, batted his lush eyelashes at the screen as he made a few adjustments on his end of the communications channel. “And how is Houston this fine morning, MC?”

“Someone feeling a little homesick, commander? It’s a beautiful morning at Johnson, 60 degrees and overcast, we’re expecting rain come sunrise. When you rotate home, you can buy me those waffles before I head out on family leave with my gloriously pregnant wife.”

“Can’t wait to meet the new Junior Mills, MC, counting down the days.” Dean Winchester, smiled warmly at his boss and friend, Jody. The pregnancy was a source of joy for everyone at Johnson Mission Control Center who had attended her wedding to her wife, Donna, a couple years back. When Jody announced Donna was expecting, Dean teased you could see the light in her eyes from space.

“Shooting you over to the big screen now, cap'” Jody replied shooting Dean the finger guns, and then she clicked a few buttons and cast Dean’s transmission to the largest monitor in the somewhat cramped room, ready for the “morning” meeting between herself, the crew on the International Space Station, and the five core systems flight controllers at Lyndon B Johnson Space Center in Houston, Texas. In Mission Control there were about twenty systems consoles, one corresponding to each one of the complex systems that made up the ISS. But the ISS crew didn’t have to meet with twenty flight controllers every day, just the five senior ones who ran the core systems and the chief flight director, Jody Mills, who ran everything and everyone.

The ISS crew worked five and a half days a week, but every morning they checked in for a meeting covering the day’s status reports and assignments with Mission Control at 7AM ISS time, which happened to be 2AM on the ground in Houston. When she was earning her mechanical engineering master’s and aiming for a coveted flight controller career at NASA, Jody gave little thought to time zones in space. But here she was, Chief Flight Director for NASA’s prestigious space center, working 1AM to 10AM local time/6AM to 3PM ISS time, with the rest of the flight team at Mission Control Center. Sure, MC ran 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year, but the most prestigious shift, the one the Chief Flight Director ran, was overnight and wrapped up just in time for a late breakfast.

“This is Captain Winchester aboard the ISS saying good mornin’, all y’all.” Dean and his crew of five greeted the faces of the five core flight controllers and their chief with his all-American boy smile and his native Texan drawl.

“Good morning, Captain Winchester, we are Johnson Mission Control, let’s give you the rundown this fine morning … “

***

Dean shut down the channel and turned to his fellow crew members: his brother Sam, their flight surgeon, working on NASA’s on-going study of the effects of microgravity on the human body; Mick Davies, a UK scientist; Billie Reaper, a Canadian engineer; Kevin Tran, an Australian engineer; and their second in command, Pamela Barnes, a First Nations descendent of the Yupik of Alaska. The crew had originally expected two Russian cosmonauts scheduled during this rotation, but political something blah blah with the US meant that the Brits and Canadians rounded out their crew this time.

“OK, people, Let’s go refill our coffees, eat some space eggs, and see if we can get through Sam’s physical exams this morning without too much drama,” Dean checked his tablet and then glared at his crew, who groaned back at him because everyone loves being poked and prodded by a doctor. Each day they had a quick check of their vitals and conferral with the medical flight controller at MC, but every Thursday, Sam took detailed records and bloodwork much to the consternation of some of the crew members.

 

“Kevin is the drama queen,” Pam teased, poking Kevin repeatedly with her index finger.

“Oh hey, excuse me if I thought I could go to frickin’ space to perform critical maintenance to all the robotics systems on the frickin’ ISS without having to deal with daily needles!” Kevin’s voice was pitched in a high whine, but he was also blushing. Dean thought Kevin’s little crush on his sexy second in command was adorable.

“OK, needles bad, robots good. Got it,” Dean continued clicking line items on his tablet, “let’s keep it tight this morning so Billie can get the updates tested with CRONUS this afternoon, and maybe I can talk MC into uploading some new movies for movie night tonight.” Sam, Billie and Mick high-fived and everyone glided their way off to their living quarters where they had a tiny common table that folded down from the wall.

Over a breakfast of reconstituted eggs and vacuum-sealed crumpets they discussed plans for the day. Dean loved being on the ISS. Yes, they lived in very tight quarters. And yes, he wanted to take a real bath. He wanted to cook himself a nice meal. He wanted apples fresh from the farmer’s market. Sex. Fresh air. More sex. He missed all of that. But up here he had his brother, his competent crew, the breathtaking view of the earth from the cupola, and a life that was utterly uncomplicated. Sure it was complex, what with the science-ing and the space-ing and the danger-ing shit, but complex isn’t the same thing as complicated. Up here, life was uncluttered by the ups and downs of day-to-day life on earth. Up here, all he had to do was focus on the mission, follow the procedures, and solve any problems as they came up. No romance to fuck up and no boyfriends or girlfriends to let down. The right side of his mouth quirked up at the banter over their collective cleanup of breakfast. Yeah, Dean loved his life in space.

The group split up, gliding and pulling themselves toward their separate labs.

“Sam, hold up! I got a question…” Dean called out as Sam pulled by him. Sam paused and Dean tugged the tie from Sam’s hair, which promptly floated lustrous brown waves out from his face in all directions.

“Dean, there is zero chance we will turn into space zombies. That question stopped being funny four months ago. And I thought you wanted me to get these tests done quickly. Gimme back my hair tie.”

“You’re no fun, Sam!” Dean complained as he passed back the tie.

“Some people say I’m lots of fun!” Sam tossed back over his shoulder as pulled his hair back from his face with the tie and floated his way toward his lab.

Dean snorted, “no, Sam. No people say that.”.

Sam nose scrunched up as he laughed at his older brother, “just for that, jerk, you get to be my first patient this morning. Get your ass to my lab.”

***

“Singer,” Robert Singer, Director of the Johnson Space Center, barked into his phone.

“Bobby, it’s Jody,” she sounded like she’d been running.

“Mills?” Bobby checked the clocks on the wall, it was just coming up on 4PM local. “Why aren’t you asleep Mills?”

“Boss, we’re in the Emergency Room. Donna was bleeding. It’s placenta previa, and since we’re just at 31 weeks, the docs are ordering her to stay here a few days, and then when they release her, she’s gotta be on bedrest until at least 36 weeks when we can start planning on scheduling the c-section.”

Bobby sat up straight in his chair, “that sounds serious, Mills. Donna and the baby okay?”

“It was a little scary there for a minute, but they’re doing better now.”

“Thank God!” Bobby breathed.

“Yes, sir. Thank God. The big worry going forward is early labor. We’ve got to keep the baby inside until they’re farther along, right now is just too early, and if we’re not careful, I could lose them both.”

“That’s not gonna happen, Jody. Donna is a badass and everything is gonna be fine.”

“I hope so, boss.” Jody took another deep breath and charged forward, “Bobby, I hate to do this to you, but you know Donna’s mother is Senator Hanscum?”

“Yes, I remember when we hosted the Senator through here shortly before your wedding. She’s a … peach.”

Jody chuckled. “Yes, my mother-in-law is a handful, and she’s decided to encamp herself in our home until after the baby is born.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes. Sir, I can’t leave my pregnant, bedridden wife to deal with her mother on her own. I hate to do it, but I’m going to take a leave of absence, so I can take care of my family until after the baby is born.”

“Separate from the Family Medical Leave you already filed for?” Bobby clicked his mouse around on the screen bringing up the human resources system and noting the leave paperwork already on file.”

Jody inhaled through her nose and breathed out slowly.

“Calm down, chief,” Bobby told her, “I’m just trying to figure out which strings to pull to get your file processed fastest.”

“I know, sir, and thank you, it’s been a long day. And I’m worried about Copeland. He’s my backup for chief, but with the pressure of preparations leading up to getting half that crew rotated home, I just don’t think I’ve made him ready enough for the responsibility. He’s eager, but he’s still more green that I’d like.”

“Copeland’s a good kid. His work has always been exemplary.”

“I know sir. I can’t put my finger on it, but I just think he’s too tightly wound for this crew. They’re, well, you know how they are sir, and the last projects of this crew rotation are on tight schedules with narrow windows. We need someone who can balance the personalities and deal with the complexities.”

“I trust your assessment chief. If you say Copeland isn’t ready, I believe you. Do you have someone you’d recommend, or I can start pulling names from the flight directors at the other space centers.”

“Last year, we worked really closely with Marshall Center, and I got to know their new, well, he’s not new now, but year or year and a half ago he was, um, their new chief, Castiel Novak, pretty well.”

“Novak? What’s his background?”

“Aerospace engineer, did his time at JPL in design and project management, then made his way over to Marshall for five years at flight controller, then promoted to chief.”

“Hm. Moves fast.”

“Not an opportunist, sir. He’s good. He works hard and does his research and knows how to manage his people. I’ve spent some time with him outside of work when we were planning that last launch of robotics for ISS last year, he’s good people. And with him there, I won’t worry about my people.”

“OK, Jody. I’m convinced. I’ll put in the call. And you’ve got a lot on your plate, so don’t you worry about things here. We’ll keep things going.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jody’s voice broke, she cleared her throat and sighed in relief.

“Don’t you let the Senator push you around, now. And keep us posted on Donna and the baby, you hear?”

“Yes, sir. Will do sir.”

Bobby checked the clock again. He didn’t have a lot of time, but he could get this done today with a little expedited paperwork.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas gets a call to head to Houston.

Castiel’s feet pounded the pavement, one foot in front of the other, running along at a quick 9-mile-per-hour clip. It was a humid 68 degrees in Huntsville this afternoon, overcast with enough warmth to make the air thick and comforting on his stiff back and legs – that’s what sitting at a desk gets you, a stiff back and grumpy legs. His eight-mile run was going to take him by the Taco Bus on Governor’s Drive where he was planning to stop for al pastor tacos and a sangria soda – his usual reward for a Thursday afternoon run. The al pastor was marinated in árbol chiles and lime juice and was cooked with pineapple chunks and served with fresh avocado. He usually picked soft corn tortilla tacos, but today he was feeling a burrito in a flour tortilla. His mouth was watering at the thought of the smoky dried chiles. He was so deep in contemplation of eating lunch and putting one foot in front of the other, that it took him a moment to register that his phone was ringing.

He tapped the Bluetooth earpiece in his right ear, and connected the call with, “Novak.”

“Novak, this is Singer over at Johnson Space Center.”

“Yes, Director?” Castiel stopped running and took a few deep breaths.

“Novak, I need a favor.” Bobby’s voice was clipped. 

“Sir?” The director’s tone didn’t sound good to Castiel’s ears. He lifted the hem of his shirt and wiped his face with it. Two women in a silver convertible honked and catcalled him. He waved at them as they sped off, and then he leaned forward and put his hands on his thighs stretching his lower back, saying, “What can I do for you, Director?”

“Son, I’ve got a situation out here at Johnson. Our Chief Flight Director, maybe you know her, Jody Mills, has had to take leave suddenly, and we’re six months into an eight-month rotation of the American and Canadian astronauts. We’ve got a heavy schedule over the next seven weeks to bring them home. And I need someone down here to fill in for her.”

“Sir,” Castiel’s heart fluttered in his chest, “I’m happy to help, but surely you have a whole team of flight controllers there who are qualified to step up?”

Director Singer let out an audible sigh, “Our people are good, but Mills tells me our next in line is still a bit green for the job. This crew is feisty, and their projects are high profile; the most significant is, of course, the flight surgeon’s long-term health study data. Tran has a set of robotics upgrades to finish integrating and there are a few more projects that are almost as significant.”

Castiel wiped his face again, the humidity had sweat pouring off of him. “I’m honored sir, I’d be happy to help. When do you need me?”

Bobby sighed again. “There’s a flight leaving Huntsville at 7PM tonight.”

Castiel pinched his nose. “Um, OK, 2AM tonight is Friday morning, so I’d come on tonight, work my nine hours, and then be off Saturday and Sunday, and then back on for 2AM Monday… Why not bring me in next week?”

“Because I need you here now, kid,” Bobby huffed. “Look, we’ve got time to get you here today. So, if we plug you in tonight, then we’d have a rock-solid transition and no other personnel to worry about.”

Castiel breathed out, “that’s a tight window sir. It’s 4PM now.”

“Your flight is direct. You’ll be on the ground in Houston by 9PM. If you don’t check any bags, we can have you picked up and on base by 10:30. Your driver can help you get booked into a room at temporary housing. You’ll have just enough time to grab a shower and a snack before we need you at MC.”

Shit, he had to be at the airport in just over an hour and a half if he had a chance of making this flight. Castiel quickly did the math in his head and called a Lyft to get him back home faster than he could run. Then he turned back into the call, Bobby was saying, “…tickets already bought and in your name. You’re checked in. All you have to do is pack a couple of carry-ons and get yourself to the gate.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, son. I’ll grab a nap in one of the lounges, so I can greet you in MC tonight.”

“Thank you, sir, but that isn’t necessary,” Cas shifted from foot to foot, a little self-conscious, “I’m sure you’ve already had a long day, and we’ll be fine if we don’t see you again until Monday.”

“It’s not a problem, Novak. I want to make sure you’re settled in right. See you tonight,” and Director Singer cut the call.

Castiel’s Lyft pulled up and he got in, already thinking about what to pack before placing a quick call to the teenager next door who brought in his mail and watered his plants when he was traveling. 

***

When Castiel checked in at the gate, a little harried and a little out of breath from his final sprint from security to the far end of the terminal, a kind customer service worker told him they’d bumped him to first class. It was a short commuter flight in a small plane, and he didn’t expect an actual first-class section. When he boarded, he was pleasantly surprised to find that even though it was a small plane, first class meant you got a little more leg room in the first few rows. He was happy about it because he got to board first, stow his backpack and his duffel, and settle in to read the mission files he’d downloaded to his iPad. He didn’t have a lot of time, just two hours, but it was enough to re-familiarize himself with the crew bios, their projects and specializations, and the mission timelines. Bonus, he’d be one of the first people off the plane, which would get him to his ride earlier, then get him to the space center earlier than expected. He wasn’t going to be late on his first day.

Castiel slid into his seat, buckled the seat belt, and booted up his tablet to read his crew profiles: Winchester, Barnes, Winchester, Tran, Davies, and Reaper. Dean and Sam Winchester. Intellectually, he’d known Dean Winchester was on the ISS. Everyone who watched the news or could use Google knew. You could look him up on Wikipedia, for god’s sake. Yet, Castiel had been in a comfortable cloud of denial about the whole thing. 

Which took some doing, really, because the brothers in space were always a special interest story, and Dean and Sam were particularly photogenic. In fact, this whole crew was particularly photogenic. They were social media savvy, with Twitter and Instagram accounts, and NASA liked them that way. It was good for the NASA space program and good for space exploration in general. 

Castiel closed his eyes and let himself drift back ten years, let his thoughts penetrate the careful walls he’d placed in his mind to distance himself from the weekend he’d spent with the dashing young Winchester who had rotated through Marshall on a short training cycle, so he could sit second seat on a cargo transport flight to the ISS. Castiel had been a junior flight controller at the time, and Dean had been a junior astronaut, experimental aircraft pilot, and all-around Air Force hotshot. Their eyes had met across the canteen, and just like a movie, sparks had flown. Winchester was a bacon cheeseburger and fries to Castiel’s chef salad. Winchester was space-fair skinned to Castiel’s running-outside-365-days-a-year tan. But they were both into pop culture, they both liked to eat, and space was both of their first loves. And they both liked sex. A lot of sex. Dean introduced himself over lunch on Thursday. Dean took him to bed on Friday afternoon (in fairness, he went readily – he had no problem letting Dean Winchester pick him up), and they dragged themselves out again at their alarm for work on Monday morning, sore and sated, with sweet nothings lies that they would stay in touch.

They hadn’t, of course. They had both been caught up in their careers, Dean had his heart set on space, and Castiel had wanted to be a flight director. Every once in awhile, when he was particularly lonely, Castiel allowed himself to think of the scent of sweet, musky skin, of soft lips marking a trail up his inner thigh, of warm words whispered in the dark. He’d wanted Winchester badly then, and he wanted him now. But, and isn’t this the way of things, if anything, he was more invested in his career now than he was back then. He was stepping into the most prestigious chief flight director role, and it meant everything to him. It meant that he could support his institution and take care of business for his colleague, Mills, and he could carry responsibility for the most complex mission in all of NASA (ok, yes, the Mars colonization project was arguably more complex, but as of now, it was still just dreams on paper – the ISS was real.). This temporary promotion could lead to everything he’d ever wanted, and he wasn’t going to screw it up with a bad case of feelings.

(And denial was a river in Egypt.)

Castiel sighed, and the flight attendant was there to check and see if he needed anything, his smile sympathetic and a little teasing. He looked into the flight attendant’s amber eyes and found a promising light there. The guy was young and sexy, and Castiel didn’t have it in him for a casual hookup this weekend. And especially not while he was thinking about green eyes and golden freckles. Instead, he asked for coffee and went back to his files.

Dr. Sam Winchester’s work was important and interesting. He was building on earlier data, doing longitudinal health studies in conjunction with his colleagues back at David Grant Medical Center at Travis Air Force Base in California. When Dean, Billie, and Pam rotated home, Sam would stay on to continue the work. The data he accumulated would be of huge value to the Mars colony program. Actually, looking through the scope of the projects, much of this crew’s research was devoted to outcomes for the Mars project, proving technologies and techniques for human space exploration. Important stuff. No, he couldn’t be distracted by the sexy astronaut, and he couldn’t be a distraction to Dean either. 

The cabin crew let them know they were in a landing pattern, and Castiel tucked his tablet back into his backpack and settled back into his seat. The flight attendants made their final pass through the cabin, and the one who had brought him coffee slipped him a napkin with a phone number on it. Castiel smiled at the younger man, not intending to act on it, but too flattered and generally too nice a guy to not accept it either. The name, Aaron, was written beneath the number. Aaron. A nice name for a nice smile. Maybe, Castiel thought, Aaron could be a fun way to unwind. He slid the napkin into his pocket; maybe he would call him next week after he settled in.

The wheels bumped softly on the runway and the plane slowed to a rapid but smooth stop at the gate. The cabin crew wished them well, and Castiel was off the plane and into the terminal, his backpack on his shoulders and his duffel swung over his arm. The backpack was one of those tech/travel models, with pockets for his tablet and laptop, sunglasses, passport and room for to days worth of clothes. But the duffel was all NASA, blue nylon with the prominent logo on the side. And glancing around as he dodged his way through the terminal, he smiled to himself because he was by far not the only one wearing or carrying NASA gear. Not where he came from in Huntsville, and not here in Houston. 

Once past the security checkpoint, Castiel saw a young woman with a sign, “C. Novak,” held in front of her. He stopped, and she welcomed him, took his duffel bag and introduced herself. Her name was Everly Ines, and she was just out of the Air Force academy, assigned as an Aide to the Director while she waited to start grad school. She got him tucked into their car and pointed toward the base. It was about a 50-minute drive, but she seemed like she was going to try to do it in 45. 

“So, Mr Novak, orders are I’m taking you to the temporary residence hall and getting you settled in with food before you head on shift?” There was a lilt of curiosity in her voice, he wondered about.

“Those are my orders as well, lieutenant. And please called me Castiel.”

“Well, Castiel, please call me Everly,” she told him with a dimpled smile. “I’m an informal girl from Cali, just waiting on my acceptance to grad school.”

“My MS is in aerospace engineering, what are you going for?” he asked making conversation.

“My bachelor’s is in civil engineering, and my MS will be in supply chain management. I want to be you when I grow up!” she laughed.

“Ouch! I’m only 10 or 12 years older than you are,” he sniped back at her. She was fun, even if she drove like a bat out of hell.

“Right. Totally ancient,” she giggled again. 

“Oh right, rub it in. Tease the old man, why don’t you,” he chuckled, amused, her laugh was contagious, and she was really outgoing. It wasn’t what he was used to from the very junior officers.

Her face grew serious, “I jest, but I really would like to shadow you some time while you’re here,” she told him, tone soft and shy. “If you don’t think I’m too forward, that is.”

“I think you’re smart,” he told her with confidence, “knowing what you want and studying it is smart, especially if you have the time before you get shifted to your next posting. Just let me take a couple of weeks to settle in, and then remind me that I’ve already said I’d let you hang out in MC a few times.”

“Great! Thank you!” she told him, batting her long eyelashes at him. He wasn’t sure quite then if she was actually flirting or if she was just used to getting her way. Either way, she was on the young side for him, and he hadn’t dated a woman in years, anyway. 

She pulled into a loading zone in front of the temporary housing, which was basically a hotel on the base. It hosted VIPs visiting from to see what the taxpayer dollars were buying, people coming through for brief training assignments, and people like Castiel, who were reassigned and in temporary housing until they could set up their own places of residence. Everly hopped out and trotted around to the trunk to grab his duffel. He still had his backpack, and although she reached for it, he waved her off. There was very little chance he could get out of her carrying his bag, but the backpack with his technology in it stayed with him, no matter what. 

“Protective of our porn, are we?” she asked with another flirtatious giggle.

His cheeks tinged pink, “isn’t everyone?” 

She laughed aloud and shot back, “I like you, Castiel. Oh, hey, one of my friends here, Michael Turner, has a sister who is a realtor. Lots of people use her when they’re looking to lease a place. Want me to give her your contact info?” 

He hadn’t even gotten his bags into his room, and he already had a contact for getting his own place. Perfect. Maybe he could get that done this weekend. “That would be great, Everly, thank you!” 

“OK, her name is Mara Turner, and I’ll let her know you’re staying here. She can get in touch with you through the switchboard.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“OK, she said, stopping at the front desk, “this is where I leave you. Good luck, and I’ll be in touch!” And she bounced back out the way they’d come in. 

A solemn looking young man behind the desk took his name and checked him in, giving him a key for a room on the second floor. “Do you need help with your bags, Mr Novak?”

“No, thank you. I’ll take it from here,” Castiel responded and then walked down the hall to room 219. His room had a queen size bed, a small desk, and a chair, all done in shades of grey. It was more comfortable than the usual spartan quarters of military-adjacent types, but this building also housed Senators and high-ranking officials, so he supposed it was a reasonable concession to their more delicate sensibilities. It was just after 10PM, and he had time for a shower and a cup of coffee and a snack before he had to head out to meet his new team. Perfect.

Hot water and good water pressure were apparently also perks of being a guest at Johnson. Castiel stood in the shower and let the hot water wash over his back. He’d already had a shower after his run this afternoon, but this one, in scalding water rinsed with cold water, would wake him up. Coupled with another cup of coffee or three, and he’d be good to go until 10AM the next morning. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the tile, echoed memories of laughter against his skin, his back sliding against the tile, and whispered words in his ear washed over him with the water. A soft smile played over his lips as he thought back on the deeply intimate weekend, with Dean Winchester in his bed, his shower, his kitchen, the touch of his fingers, the warmth of his mouth, the heat of his skin… Castiel turned the water to icy cold and stood in the spray. Fond memories weren’t going to get him to work on time.

He got out of the shower, wrapped himself in a towel, and filled a mug with the coffee he’d set brewing before he got into the shower. No, memories wouldn’t keep him from dwelling in the past, but coffee could certainly help him stay in the moment. And in this moment, he needed to get it together and get over to Mission Control. He could be a professional about this – he had to be a professional about this. This was his career, his future, and all of his ambitions. This was his shot and he wasn’t going to blow it now, not when he’d come so far.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in ten years, Dean lays eyes on someone he never thought he'd truly meet again.

“Mission Control, this is Winchester bringing you rockin’ tunes from radio ISS. We’ve had our coffee, and we’re ready to confab. Good mornin’ y’all!”

“Good morning, Captain Winchester, we are Johnson Space Center, you’re ‘five by.’ This is Novak as chief for Mission Control, setting up your morning conference. Give me two minutes, ISS.”

Dean stared at the screen in stunned silence. It wasn’t his friend, Jody Mills, broadcasting from MC, but one Castiel Novak – the author of, and starring actor in, at least half of Dean’s fantasies and dreams for the past … how long had it been now? Ten years? Ten fucking years!? Every year he thought about reaching out to the blue-eyed lover who rocked his world for one perfect weekend back in the day. And every year he put it off thinking if Cas really wanted him, Cas knew where and how to find him. And now Cas was here. He was in Dean’s Mission Control!

“Cas?” Dean whispered. Novak flicked his blue eyes up from his keyboard, and they stared at each other for a moment before Castiel broke eye contact and went back to clicking and typing.

Dean swallowed hard, “roger, two minutes, MC. Request status on Chief Mills?” Dean kept his voice even and professional while his mind raced. If Castiel was here, where was Jody? And why Cas? With all the flight controllers on the ground at Johnson, why would anyone bring Cas in from Marshall? Yes, yes, Dean knew Cas was at Marshall. Yes, he’d kept track of the man, watched him climb the ranks with his talent and ambition. He’d hoped to have run into Cas again at some point over the years, but it hadn’t happened. Until now. On his monitor and 254 miles below orbit, either distance was still a world away. 

Dean watched Cas hit a few keys on his keyboard and then look up at the screen, “Mills has requested a leave of absence.”

“Why!?” Sam blurted from just behind Dean, “is everything OK with the baby?”

“From the notes I have here, ISS, Donna Hanscum-Mills has been given bed rest for the duration of the pregnancy, and chief Mills is with her. The notes also say that Donna and Jody will place a call to you in a few days to update you all, once they are out of the hospital and settled in at their home.”

“But the baby’s OK?” that time was from Billie Reaper.

“I’m afraid this is all the information I have for you at this time, ISS. Putting you into your morning conference now.” 

“Cas, wait …” Dean began, but Castiel clicked the commands to move the ISS crew to the big screen and sat back as the core flight controllers took over the morning meeting. 

“Good morning, Captain Winchester, we are Johnson Mission Control, let’s give you the rundown this rainy Friday morning …”

“Cas?” Sam whispered in Dean’s ear. 

“Later,” Dean whispered back swatting at his brother to focus on the meeting. But could Dean focus until later, like, with Cas sitting right there? That was the question, wasn’t it? 

***

The meeting signed off and Dean directed everyone to breakfast with, “OK, people, I heard a rumor we’re having a treat today, so let’s go get some space pancakes, with real Canadian maple syrup thanks to our Canadian friends, and see if we can’t get some work done.”

“Who’s the new hottie in MC?” Mick asked everyone and no one in particular. “Like, ok, I’m concerned about Jody and Donna, but that boy is a might good distraction from worries.”

“He’s Castiel Novak, out of Marshall in Huntsville,” Kevin told the group, “I met him briefly when I went down there to supervise the loading of the robotics upgrades for the supply transport.”

“Down there?” Mick asked, “isn’t Houston the lowest major city by longitude in the United States?”

Sam, a native Texan after five generations of Texas Winchesters, spoke up, “Texas is Texas, but Alabama will always be ‘down in the deep South.’”

Mick scoffed, “as if that clears up everything with your geography. So, who is Castiel when he’s not playing chief?”

“Dunno,” Kevin’s voice carried a note of curiosity, “I didn’t meet him outside of work – he was chief at Marshall when I was down there – but he seemed like a nice guy. Smart. Professional. Funny.”

“Funny?” Billie asked, her eyebrow quirked up in question, “he seemed all business to me.”

Dean was doling out syrup packets and minding his own business when Sam said, “Dean knows him.”

Everyone turned to Dean who stared back at them like a deer caught in the headlights.

“How do you know him, Dean?” Kevin asked, licking a drop of syrup off his index finger. 

“Uh. I don’t really. Same as you, I guess. Ran into him at Marshall.” Dean swallowed a bite of pancake and chewed like it was his life’s work.

Sam looked at Dean, puzzled, but Dean kept eating. So, Sam redirected the conversation to Kevin, “so, how is he funny?”

“Oh, you know, jokes around with the crew, keeps a friendly but sort of sarcastic banter with his controllers. I was impressed with how efficient everyone was, but it didn’t seem painful. Like they were good, but it didn’t take cracking a whip at them to keep them that way. That was Cas’ management style, just unshakable, with a firm hand and a light sense of humor.”

Mick’s eyes twinkled, “dibs on the firm hands!”

“Mick, don’t you have lettuce and tomatoes to grow?” Dean asked with a hint of acid.

“Good point,” Billie chimed in, “and if Dean and I are going to run those docking sims today, we need to get on it so we can finish by our midday check in with Operations Support.”

“OK, everyone, let’s get this show on the road,” Dean clapped his hands together as Sam and Pam folded the table up into its locked storage position on the wall. 

*** 

Castiel breathed out a sigh of relief. They’d gotten through it. He had been completely professional. Utterly impersonal. 

Wait.

Would Dean think he had forgotten him? 

Fuck. He was a couple hours into is new gig, and he was already neurotic.

***

“Dean, hold up!” Sam caught his older brother by the elbow and muscled him back into a fold-down chair. 

“Sammy …” Dean drawled a note of warning.

“Don’t ‘Sammy’ me, who is Castiel and why did you call him Cas?” Sam pulled his hair tie out, pulled his hair tight back from his face, and bound it in a man bun with the tie.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Dean made a chopping motion with his hand.

“OK, so he’s someone you have feelings for? Since when?”

“What about ‘I don’t want to talk about’ do you not get?”

“Dean, just tell me, who is he?” Sam said softly with the puppy dog eyes.

“No one,” Dean sighed, staring at his hands.

“Doesn’t seem like no one if you have a nickname for him and you were staring daggers at Mick.”

“Mick is a dick,” Dean laughed at his own rhyme.

“Dean…”

“OK, look, about ten years ago, Cas was a one-night stand who turned into a one-weekend stand. We thought to keep in touch, but we both had careers and ambitions. And that’s the whole story, okay?”

“Must have been one hell of a weekend to have you all knotted up ten years later.”

“It was, alright? It was one hell of a weekend. And that’s all I’m going to say. So just drop it.”

“Dean, you’re an astronaut in command of ISS. And Cas is the chief flight director for Marshall and now Johnson. Seems like you’ve both already got the greatest careers you could want. Maybe you should think about what you want now? A home? A family maybe? A life that is more than just work?”

Dean sighed again. It really did sound good, didn’t it? Then Dean frowned, “Sam, in case you didn’t notice, he didn’t even acknowledge me. He didn’t respond when I called him Cas. He probably doesn’t even remember me.”

Sam tilted his head to one side, looking at his older brother with sympathetic eyes, “well, maybe you should make him remember.”

 

***

Castiel’s day was a whirlwind. He had the ISS to monitor and HR paperwork to complete. He had to meet and familiarize himself with two dozen flight controllers and their console assignments, some of which were different than those at Marshall. And he had to do it all while the IT people set up his email, his network permissions, and all the other administrative rigmarole that comes with a new job. 

At 10AM, he was ready to collapse having been on his feet for more than 24 hours. He demurred on an invite to breakfast, begging off from fatigue, and promised his new teammates he’d go out with them next week. Then he headed back to his room, stopping at the front desk to pick up his messages – a business card from Mara Turner, the realtor, with a note on the back instructing him to start a profile on her website to narrow down his needs and desires in a home. He took five steps through the door of room 219 and collapsed onto the bed. Damn, he was tired.

Castiel stared up at the ceiling. His eyes felt gritty. He knew he should stay up a few more hours and try to get on a sleep schedule, but he wanted to go house hunting this weekend – he didn’t love the idea of staying in temporary housing any longer than he had to – and he needed to be awake during the day to do that. He needed to get over to the canteen and get something to eat. He needed another shower, but he was tired. Castiel wanted nothing more than to lie in bed and daydream about full-bodied kisses, physical strength equal to his own, warm skin and muscle stretched over sharp and angular bones, the heated thrumming of his heartbeat, long fingers, full lips… Cas wanted to remember it all.

His mobile phone rang and he answered it with a clipped, “Novak.”

“Hey baby bro,” Gabriel’s cheer was palpable over the connection, “got your text! So, you’re in Houston. Congrats! Have you talked to him yet?”

“Who, Gabriel?” Cas asked stifling a yawn.

“Who? Who?! Don’t give me that who business, bro. You know who. That Winchester you’ve been pining for since he gave you those naughty hickeys ten years ago.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, Gabe, but no, I haven’t talked to Dean.”

“You think I’d forgotten the hickey just above your pubes, hey?”

“No. I thought since you barged in without knocking while I was still in the shower, that you’d have the decency either to not remember or at least not bring up said hickeys,” the final words of his statement given through clenched jaws.

“Between the hickeys and bruises, you were a sight. Not something a big bro forgets,” Gabe’s tone was flat and unequivocal. “When someone spends the weekend defiling and marking up my little brother, it’s something I’m going to remember. Especially when you stayed hung up on the guy for years.”

Cas sighed again, “Gabriel, I’m tired, was there something you wanted?”

Gabe returned Cas’ sigh, like any seriousness from him was going to take a fair amount of effort, and only begrudgingly, “I just wanted to check on you, make sure you were OK, and tell you how proud I am that you got this assignment. You’re going to kill it. NASA is going to beg you to stay down there. That’s all.”

A soft smile graced Cas’ face, “thank you, Gabe. I appreciate it.”

“Now, remind me how you got the mark on …”

“Enough, Gabe!” Castiel yelped, and Gabriel laughed at his own shenanigans. “I’m going to get some food and do some adulting. I’ll text you before I go to bed, okay?”

“Awww. Spoilsport. Fine. Have a good day,” and with that, Gabriel disconnected the call.

Cas wasn’t really annoyed with his older brother. Actually, his misplaced humor and teasing had sufficiently distracted Cas from his longing daydreams. He dug his tablet out of his backpack and got started filling out Mara’s online form. He’d prefer a bungalow, but he’d take a condo, so long as it was small, easy to keep clean, and very close to the beach. Alabama is beautiful, but Huntsville is six hours and change driving time from the beach, and Cas wanted to enjoy the Gulf for as long as he had it. 

Then he had a pizza sent over from a local place, deciding to take a shower while he waited. He slipped out of his leather tennis shoes and peeled off his socks. Then he wriggled out of his khakis and unbuttoned and slid out of his long-sleeved button down. In his fitted yellow boxer briefs, he went through several yoga poses, stretching from his spine the long hours spent on the plane and at his desk. Then he shucked the underwear and got into the shower. By the time he was out and wrapped in a towel, the food had arrived. He’d ordered pizza margherita, his go to comfort food, and he had every intention of eating it while naked in bed and streaming Jessica Jones on Netflix. 

Halfway through his medium pizza, his email chimed. He clicked the notice to find that Mara had written that she received his profile and at the moment, she didn’t have anything in a month-to-month studio or one-bedroom on the beach, but she would have a couple of places in Kemah and Seabrook in a few weeks, if he’d hang tight. He’d been authorized to stay in temporary quarters for the duration of Mills’ leave, which would be about two months for the emergency leave and about three months for the family leave, or at least five months. This morning, Singer had told him to expect about a year until Mills slowly rotated back into her duties. She’d already signaled that as a new mom, she had no intention of working the overnights while their baby learned to sleep through the night. 

He smiled thinking about the baby – a melancholy little smile. At 33 years old, if he was going to settle down and start a family, he was going to have to start working toward that goal soon. He wondered if Dean wanted a family; they’d never gotten around to talking about it that one weekend they were together. Thumbing further down Mara’s email, he realized she’d offered to take him to dinner and show him around town. From her profile pic, she was pretty and a little younger than he was. A pretty realtor and a cute flight attendant, and he hadn’t even been here 24 hours. Too bad the only body he could care about right now was high above him in orbit. Sometimes fate had a sick sense of humor. He sent Mara an email that he had time to wait for those beach listings, and then he packed the pizza into the mini fridge, brushed his teeth, and crawled into bed to stare at Netflix until he fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean flirts and Cas, well, Cas orders space lube.

Cas woke Friday evening and decided since he was going to be here awhile, he should probably run over to the mall and grab a few more pieces of clothing. He’d packed enough for a week of business casual, and two weeks of underwear and socks, but he needed more running clothes, a pair of ankle boots for going out, and a small mix of casual clothes and dressy clothes to cover all the other things he might do while in Houston. Checking with the front desk, they told him that yes, of course he could have items delivered to his room that he ordered online. The packages would be delivered at the front gate, and then gate security would check them and then drop them off at the front desk. They could keep them there for him or drop them off in his room, whichever he’d prefer. Great, so all his usual shopping sites could deliver here. So, all he really needed was some running clothes and a dressy outfit for dinner at Director Singer’s house tomorrow night.

His maps app told him that Baybrook Mall was nearby. It had all the shops he could possibly want, including menswear and more than a couple athletic shops. So, he walked to the front gate, called a Lyft and headed out to do a little shopping. A pair of black skinny jeans, a fitted midnight blue button down, a new shaving kit, and a couple of pairs of running shorts and tee shirts later, and the mall had officially lost its charm. He stepped into the bathroom in the food court and changed into his new running shorts and tee. Fortunately, he’d worn his running shoes to the mall, so he crammed the rest of his purchases into his empty backpack that he’d brought along for this purpose and then ran the approximately five miles back to the base. It was coming up on 10PM when he arrived at Johnson’s main gate. The security checked his ID and rifled through the contents of his backpack, then they waved him through.

He made it back to his room and took his third (fourth?) shower in two days. He put away his new purchases. Then he crawled into bed with his laptop and started shopping online for the few more things he’d need. After stops at Nordstrom.com, Zappos.com, and JCrew.com, it was almost 1AM. He decided to stay up for a few more hours reading more deeply the personnel and project files for the ISS. Who was he kidding, he wanted to know more about Dean.

He read all the other files first, saving Dean’s for last. It was a time management trick he’d learned in college, do the things you’re less interested in first. Then, reward yourself at the end doing something you want to do. Sam and Kevin’s work was fascinating. Billie and Mick were quite accomplished. And Pam was one of the very few female test pilots in the history of the Air Force. Her call sign was “Witchy,” and she had apparently near-preternatural in her instincts for flight. She was a few years older than he was, and he’d have to have been blind to not notice that she was also beautiful. Dean had a thing for brunettes, he knew, and he wondered if Dean and Pamela had ever … yeah, none of his fucking business.

Dean’s file. Test pilot. Flight engineer. Hotshot record. Combat medals. Dean was the full package. His personnel record said he was cocky like the best test pilots, but excellent at leadership, and effective at helping people work together. He was, Cas’ heart skipped a beat to notice, delightfully single. Cas googled Dean Winchester, astronaut, and spent a good twenty minutes studying photographs of Dean in his Air Force uniform, Dean in his astronaut uniform, Dean cutting ribbons at elementary schools named after various NASA flights. And Dean making appearances at children’s wards in local hospitals.

Cas slept into the late afternoon on Saturday, dressed in his new jeans and button down, and headed out to the gate to catch a Lyft to Director Singer’s house. Dinner had been a relaxing affair with Bobby and his partner Ellen, and their two German shepherds, Bear and Athena. Bobby had smoked a brisket and Ellen had picked a jammy pinot noir. There was potato salad and baked beans. And Cas swore he’d never seen such pathetic begging as from Bear and Athena. He wanted doggos just like them some day, and he wasn’t shy telling Ellen how much he loved her canine friends.

She kissed him goodnight and sent him back to the space center with a brisket sandwich and sides, and also a couple of fluffy blueberry crumb muffins Bobby had baked for their breakfast. He thanked her and hugged her and told her how pleased he was that he could stream Netflix all night and he wouldn’t have to worry about going down to the canteen. With a parting hug, she told him not to be a stranger.

***

Monday at 2AM Houston time/7AM ISS time:

“Mission Control, this is Winchester bringing you the sexy sounds from radio ISS. What’s the most romantic part of the ocean, Cas?”

Cas looked at his screen and into Dean’s eyes sparkling with mischief, “Good morning, Captain Winchester. You are ‘five … wait, what?” he asked tripping over the riddle Dean had asked instead of a standard greeting.

Dean chuckled and repeated himself, “what’s the most romantic part of the ocean, Cas?” His soft pink lips smiling widely, adorable dimples on full display.

“Um,” Cas stared at Dean, and kept staring until Dean raised his right shoulder in a half shrug like, ‘you gonna’ answer?’ It was so casual and sexy, and it made Cas’ heart flutter. “Um, I don’t know, Dean, what is the most romantic part of the ocean?”

Dean began shaking with restrained chuckles, “when buoy meets buoy!” and then he fell into laughter at his own joke.

Cas felt his cheeks heat up, but he was chuckling too, “Hello, Dean, he replied through his laughter.”

“Good morning, Mission Control,” Dean smirked, “how’s Houston this morning?”

“It’s cool and drizzly, ISS, perfect sweater weather.”

“You mean perfect cuddling weather, MC.”

Cas wrinkled his nose and replied with, “I’m pushing you to the big screen now, ISS.”

“Thanks, Cas. Good morning, Johnson MC, how y’all doing today?”

“We’re a little damp and grumpy, Captain Winchester. We are Johnson Mission Control, and our break room coffee pot is on the fritz. Let’s give you the rundown this caffeine-free morning…” began Inias who was sitting Ops Control.

Cas settled in to listen to his flight controllers brief the ISS crew with statuses of systems and scheduled maintenance. Billie and Dean were finishing up some simulations, while Mick wanted to set up a conference call to a biologist at Christ’s College at Cambridge. Sam was requisitioning some additional supplies on the supply run in two weeks, and Kevin’s upgrades were running a hair behind schedule – something about testing taking longer because the test scripts didn’t account for a hand Kevin’s size (or a woman’s hand for that matter) operating the robotic arm. The joystick was a bit big. It was fine for most things, but anything requiring delicate finite control was going to result in fatigue pretty quickly for the operator. Kevin was drafting potential solutions with the ROBO controller who was comparing the specs and coordinating with manufacturing. It wasn’t going to be a fast fix unless the control stick could be manufactured to work with a quick-change controller handle system.

Cas followed along with one ear while he stared at Dean. He’d been gorgeous before, pretty and younger-looking than his 23 years. But the ten years since they’d met had done Dean a world of favors. The soft baby face had transmuted into exquisite and delicate angles. The freckles gracing his nose and cheeks softened the otherwise slightly-too-thin face. A few crinkles around his eyes gave his smile a rakish look. And he glowed with self-assurance and competence. God, Cas wanted him.

He listened politely to the rest of the call and then ran down a couple of closing items for the crew, “I have a few news items, Donna will be out of the hospital this afternoon. Jody will call you all tomorrow at 9AM local/2PM ISS time. And yes, I checked, the baby is fine. We’re coming down to the wire with the resupply transport, so everyone double check your manifests and make sure that everything you requested is on that flight. I need to know today, people.” And with that, Cas looked up at the six astronauts on the big screen and said, “have a great day, ISS. This is Johnson MC, we are out.” And then he disconnected the feed.

Meg Masters, who was Environmental flight controller, pivoted her chair to Castiel asking, “did pretty boy just throw you a riddle?”

“Err, I think so,” Cas responded looking at his cuticles.

“Aww, look at you blush. Has someone got a cru-ush?” Meg sing-songed.

“No Ms Masters, I’m just here to hold down the fort until Ms Mills returns. No crushes.”

“Well pretty boy seems to be flirting with you with the silly riddles,” she smirked.

“And no, Ms Masters, there’s no flirting either.”

And Castiel turned to all his flight controllers and said with voice raised, “there are at least nine mechanical and electrical engineers in this room. Please tell me one of you can fix the coffee pot!”

“On it!” Inias and Garth called out as they headed to the break room.

“Thank the maker!” Castiel responded loudly as he returned to his elevations station in mission control. Someone had to get some work done around here.

***

“What’s with the riddle, Winchester?” Davies snarked, “you flirting with the new boy?”

“You said it yourself Davies, new boy is a looker, and since when do you care how I run the calls with MC?”

“I don’t care,” Davies shot back, “I just think it’s interesting that you do care.”

“Leave him alone,” Billie interjected elbowing her way past Mick on her way to her lab, “remember the rule: we don’t comment on someone’s personal life unless we’re specifically asked.”

“What are you talking about,” Davies shot back, “we talk about everyone’s personal life all the time! We may as well be a quilting bee for all we gossip!”

“Alright, knock it off,” Dean told his crew. “Go over your lists for resupply and then go over them again. Hop to, spacers.”

***

 

Cas looked over the manifests double-checked by the ISS crew and noted that there had been a few changes. Billie wanted vanilla mints, Mick asked for Walker’s shortbread, Sam needed extra anti-inflammatory meds because Pam’s minor treadmill debacle last month had made a dent in their supply, and Dean wanted … what? Cas sighed. He needed to call each astronaut who asked for revisions and double check he understood what they wanted. Even if it was awkward.

He started with Billy, pinging her tablet and waiting just a few seconds before she responded with, “this is Reaper on ISS, go ahead MC.”

“Good afternoon Billie,” Cas said with a smile, “I need to verify the brand and quantity of mints you’re asking for, and also confirm that they’re for personal not health or medical uses.”

“Hi Cas,” she responded, adopting the nickname Dean had used. He didn’t bother to correct her. “Yeah, personal use. I do find the vanilla relaxing, but mostly I just miss Trader Joe’s.”

“OK, good, confirming you’re asking for four boxes of 30 each vanilla mints from Trader Joe’s?”

“Yes,” Billie responded, “that gonna be a problem, sir?” her tone was serious, but it was said with a wide smile.

“No, Billie. Marshall has a regular shipping arrangement with Trader Joe’s, I’ll have your mints sent up from Birmingham on the next run at the end of the week.”

“Thanks, Cas,” and she signed off with a little salute.

Next, he pinged Sam’s tablet.

“Winchester here, MC, what do you need?” Sam asked absently. He seemed to have one eye on a couple of culture dishes. “Oh, hi Cas,” Sam also used the nickname Dean had let slip. Castiel let that go as well.

“This is MC verifying your requisition for additional naproxen. Is 30 in individual blister packs, the correct quantity and description?”

“Yes, it is, MC. Can we do that?”

“Not a problem, Sam, but I wanted to make sure 30 was enough considering it’s another six weeks after this one until the next supply run.”

“It should be plenty, MC. I checked the archives and we’ve never used the full 30 in any given supply rotation.”

“Great, Sam. I’ve got it marked down, you sure you don’t need anything else?”

“No, MC. We’re well-stocked here.”

“Thank you, Sam.”

“No, thank you, Cas.” And with that, Sam signed off.

Cas breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. Two down, two to go.

Cas pinged Mick’s tablet, and he answered with a friendly and maybe flirty, “hiya, Cas! What can I do for you?” Cas snorted. Clearly, he was never going back to using Castiel with this crew.

“Hi Mick, just verifying you want two 24-pack boxes of Walker’s shortbread.”

“That’s what I asked for,” Mick responded with cheer.

“Can I ask what you need that many shortbread for?”

Mick chuckled again, “well, you know, boss, it’s currency here in prison. Like cigarettes and soap.”

Cas stared at the biologist. What on earth was he talking about? “Prison currency? Can I ask what there is to trade for on the space station?”

Mick burst into laughter, “your face, sweetheart! No, I just thought it would be nice because the Canadians sent syrup, the Americans sent peanut butter, and I thought as a brit, I could contribute shortbread.”

“That’s kind of you; I’m sure I can squeeze in one box, but I’m not sure about two. Would one box be adequate?”

“I can make that work,” Mick replied, “size isn’t everything. Quality matters too,” with a wink of his light blue eyes.

Cas snorted and then wiped his hands over his face, “Alright, Davies, I’ll see what I can do. ISS out.” And Cas disconnected the channel shaking his head. He made a mental note to ask if Davies was always this much of a flirt. And now there was no more putting it off. Time to call Dean. He pinged Dean’s tablet, and Dean answered with a warm smile, “hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean,” he said softly, the words already becoming ritual in his mind. “I need to confirm your requisition for the resupply.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Dean’s green eyes were sparkling with mirth.

Cas took a deep breath, “you’ve listed Astroglide, a 40-count box of individual use packets?”

Dean stared into Cas’ eyes and Cas stared back, it was obvious Dean thought this was hilarious. Well, Cas wasn’t going to break first. Who was he kidding? Of course, he was going to break first. He took another deep breath, “I’m going to regret this question. Can I ask why you need such a large quantity of personal lubricant?”

“Well, see, I didn’t,” Dean drawled. “I brought 30 packs for eight months, which is about one pack a week, or two sessions with my hand, you know? But now that you’re sitting in the chief chair, and I see you every day, it’s clear my original supply isn’t going to be enough,” Dean’s voice was near-gleeful.

Cas pinched the bridge of his nose, cleared his throat and continued, “so, you’re saying, given the current circumstances, you need a resupply?”

“Yep,” Dean chuckled happily, “circumstances.”

 

Cas wiped his hand over his eyes, “OK, Winchester. Your lube will be on the shuttle.”

“You’re blushing,” Dean’s smile was wide.

“Mission Control does not blush, Winchester. Transmission ends,” and Cas cut the connection and took a deep breath. He grinned to himself, maybe it was fun being the object of aggressive flirtation. He needed coffee, and maybe a long run around the base a few times.

***

(three days of riddles later)

“Mission Control, this is Winchester bringing you fresh tunes from radio ISS. What did the paperclip say to the magnet, Cas?”

Cas checked the clock on his monitor, Dean was five minutes early. “This is Mission Control, ISS you’re early this morning.”

“Just thought we’d chat a bit before the crew gets down here.”

“What did you want to chat about?”

“What did the paper clip say to the magnet?”

“I wouldn’t know, Dean, what did the paper clip say to the magnet?”

“I find you very attractive!”

“You’re still flirting with me, ISS?”

“Is it working?”

“Maybe, depends what are you working toward?”

“A virtual date, you me, our tablets, the cupola. Sound nice?”

Cas ran his hand through his short hair causing it to stand on end. Dean caught his breath and his lips parted. He was still smiling, but the fondness in his eyes had heated. He was gorgeous. Cas shook his head knowing he wasn’t going to win this one, “sounds nice, ISS,” Cas whispered as Sam and Pam swung into the tiny room, followed closely by the rest of the crew.

“Good morning, ISS,” Cas recited, “pushing you to the big screen now.”

“Thanks, MC,” Dean grinned.

“We are Johnson Mission Control, good morning, ISS.”

“Good morning, Johnson, how’s the weather this fine morning?”

“We’re expecting sunshine, sunshine, and more sunshine later today, ISS, how are you all today?”

Cas settled back in his chair to listen to the sounds of the crew and controllers going through their daily business. His heart fluttered thinking back on that weekend he and Dean shared. A little space phone sex could be hot. Not entirely professional, but if it was a one off, which is surely what Dean wanted, Cas didn’t think it would impact his ability to do his job. And, of course, Dean was totally devoted to his career. Theirs couldn’t be a relationship. And Cas didn’t want one, right? Well, it didn’t matter if he did want one because Dean was the player who’d picked him up in the canteen, and Dean was never going to be a relationship guy. Cas let his thoughts continue to drift as the meeting was wrapping up, then he chimed in, “Johnson MC signing off,” and closed the connection.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A call between our boys doesn't go as planned. For either of them.

Cas checked his email mid-shift and saw a note from Dean scheduling their private call for the end of their day. Dean’s crew quarters were in the service module, one of two berths located there. The other was assigned to Sam. They had made it to the space station and they were still sharing a bedroom. Life, right? The other four crew quarters were all together two modules over. “Crew quarters” was a cute euphemism for a bunk, some computers and other electronic equipment, and a few personal items stored in a space about the same size as a phone booth. 

But Cas knew it had a comfortable memory foam and a cozy sleeping bag attached to one wall, and curtains a person could close to get a bit of privacy. Dean, like every astronaut, had two laptops in his berth – one for work and one for personal skype-type calls and internet usage. His tablet was velcro-ed to the cubicle wall, but he could also take it with him, so his email and calls were portable around the station. There wasn’t a lot of privacy aboard the ISS, but the astronauts all had plenty of interpersonal training and instruction to help them navigate each other’s boundaries. If Dean wanted to make a “private” call to Cas, he could make it work. And since the private call would use the internet, Cas could take the call back in his room. He didn’t have to be at mission control. He hit reply to the email and indicated that he’d be available after shift to talk to Dean.

Like every other shift, the night passed quickly. There was so much to do between the projects running on ISS and the administrative tasks on the ground, that he barely had time to grab a coffee and a pack of cheese crackers from the vending machine for lunch. He was exhausted at the end of the shift but transferring control to the day controllers left him unsettled. Definitely he wanted and needed to go for a run before his call with Dean. He ran for an hour, then grabbed a chicken caesar salad at the canteen and headed back to his room for a shower. 

After his shower, Cas toweled off, pulled on boxers and a tee shirt and stretched out on the bed, propping himself up on his pillows. With his tablet in his lap, he snacked on his salad and window shopped for a new bicycle on the internet until 3PM when Dean pinged his tablet. Cas answered, “Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas, check it out, we’re in the cupola.” With that, Dean slowly rotated the camera on the laptop so that Cas could see out the famous observation windows to the incredible view of the station’s orbital position above earth. It was as gorgeous as anything he’d seen in pictures, but bigger somehow, and more breathtaking.

“You sure know how to impress a date, Winchester,” Cas huffed, feeling the intimacy of the darkness of the cupola, the enormity of space, and Dean curled up alone with his laptop with Cas on the screen. 

“Is this a date, Cas?” Dean asked, voice low and eyes glowing with the light reflected from the earth.

Cas hesitated, knowing Dean and knowing Dean wouldn’t really want a date, or a relationship. God Dean was gorgeous. A shot of longing penetrated his heart, and he pushed it away. This was Dean, it was just friendship and sex. He took a deep breath, could he live with a bit of phone sex? I mean, he had reached the point in his life where he wanted to settle down, do a bit of traveling with a partner, and then in a few years, maybe start a family. Cas sighed. Still, Dean was fun, a lot of fun, and Cas could take a bit of fun. Cas lowered his voice and said lowly, “I’m remembering the last time we were together and thinking maybe this is a hookup?”

Dean’s eyes clouded over, a flicker of rejection there, gone in a moment so that Cas thought he must have imagined it. They stared at each other again. Dean shook his head, hesitated a breath and asked, “you alone in your room?”

“Yes. You? Do you have privacy there?”

“Yeah, everyone’s in their berths reading the internet and streaming movies until lights out.”

“So, I’m alone with your soft lips…” Cas said, heated eyes focused on Dean’s mouth.

Dean sighed softly, settled in, curled up on his back with the laptop propped against his knees. He slowly brushed across his bottom lip with his thumb and then bit the pad of his thumb, eyes heavy lidded and watching Cas through lush lashes. 

Cas groaned, “I thought I’d remembered how unbelievably sensual you are, but then you remind me like that, and my memory was nothing like the real thing…”

Dean unzipped his flight suit down to his middle. He wriggled his upper body out of it and tied the empty arms around his narrow waist. Underneath, he was wearing a tight tee shirt that read “I wuv hugs,” with a cute cartoon of a bear on it. He stretched his arms above his head and let his head roll back to expose more of his neck.

“So gorgeous…” Cas whispered, eyes locked on the stretch, all grace and sinew. “And you wuv hugs, do you?”

“You know I do, baby. And you fit so nicely against my side, head tucked up under my chin. I miss holding you, Cas. Holding you while you sleep,” Dean’s voice was pitched soft and low, eyes liquid green and bright.

They stared at each other for a long moment, Cas chewing the nail of his middle finger, and Dean arms across his chest. Just looking their fill. Cas felt warmth settle deep in is bones, arousal simmering beneath his skin. How perfect could it be if he had this to wake up to every day ...

“I meant to call you out on that,” Cas said licking his lips, “you’ve got everyone calling me Cas And, it reminds me, sometimes inconveniently, of the first time you called me Cas.”

“I remember,” Dean whispered. “I remember you filling me so full, skin scorching, unbelievable friction, and a thrust so perfect it shook your name from my lips.”

Cas closed his eyes at the vivid memory almost like he was back in that tiny studio apartment where the queen-sized bed was practically his only furniture, a sun-drenched room, Dean panting, his own heart hammering out of his chest ... He opened his eyes and murmured, “you arched your back, and I had a bruising grip on your hips; we were both so sweaty… and I was dizzy with the want of you.”

Dean put his hand over his face and chuckled, “the humidity of Alabama. Between the showers and the sex, I don’t think we were dry all weekend. We gave new meaning to the word ‘sticky.’”

Cas burst out laughing. In for a penny, they say … and he set the tablet on the bed next to him so he could pull his shirt over his head. He returned to the screen and saw Dean’s heated gaze search over his body. Cas shivered.

“You cold, baby?” Dean asked his voice low and dirty, heavy with an offer of warmth.

“Not cold,” Cas spoke, shly, “ your voice does that to me. You make me tremble.” 

“Mmmm. How can you be so cut when I know you spend all your days in mission control? You look amazing, even better than I remembered. You still run marathons?”

Cas laughed, you mean when I’m not having marathon sex with you?”

Dean snickered, “whatever you’re doing, you look fantastically fit. Like I want to lick my way down those tight abs.”

Cas shivered. “You look even sexier than when we met, although you’re very thin.”

Dean raised both his hands in protest, “it’s just space, you know how it goes. It’s hard to eat enough to keep up with the calories we spend running on a treadmill seven days a week.”

“I wasn’t complaining, beautiful,” Cas’ voice dropped into its lowest register, “you’re gorgeous, like every fantasy I’ve ever had. Even if you are still wearing your shirt.” Dean quirked his lips at the screen, and then in one motion, pulled the tight tee over his head. His hair floated up, and he patted it back down, but it was still a bit of a mess. 

“Now I look like you,” Dean laughed, and Cas joined him by reaching both arms up and making his crazy hair even messier.

Dean leaned his cheek on his fist and stared into the screen, eyes locked on Cas’, and they breathed together. Dean brushed the screen with his fingers, smoothing them over Cas’ chest on screen. Cas responded by rubbing his own fingers over his nipple, and moaning softly. Dean caught his breath, and then his eyes grew darker.

“Hey, Cas…,” he paused, distracted by Cas palming himself in his boxers, “you remember when you tied me to your headboard with that white silk rope you had in your closet, and I was, like, all about it?” Dean sucked his lower lip into his mouth and gnawed on it.

Cas ducked his head, smiling to himself, “I remember. I remember every sound and every breath.” 

The more they talked, the more Cas remembered. It was like he could remember with crystalline clarity everything from that weekend that he’d been trying to not think about over the last ten years. “You were spread out in my bed, arms bound above your head, and it was so erotic the way you wrapped your hands around the ropes while I swallowed you down” He chewed his thumbnail to buy himself time, until “... I wish I could see you like that again,” slipped from his lips. 

It wasn’t bright in the cupola, but the blush creeping across Dean’s cheeks was visible. Dean inhaled and asked, a little breathy, “So... I’ve always wanted to ask you... why did you have silk bondage rope in your closet? Are you a bondage guy, or was I special?”

Cas chuckled and pressed his right hand over his eyes. “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted at my mercy. That rope was a birthday gift from my brother, Gabriel. Along with chocolate body paint and, I think, banana-flavored condoms.”

The wide smile lit Dean’s face as he laughed at Cas’ blushing, “is it wrong that that sounds kind of delicious.”

“Yes! It is all kinds of wrong! I threw the paint and condoms away. If you want me to, I’ll spare us both the horror of older brothers and make you a chocolate banana cream pie.”

“OK, one, hey! I’m an older brother and I’m awesome! And two, that pie sounds delicious. Can we eat it off your cock?”

Cas’ chuckling had him looking at the ceiling when he said, “like you ate that can of whipped cream I used in my coffee?”

It was Dean’s turn to blush and chuckle, “exactly like that. So, wait, do you still have the rope?”

Cas absently scratched his shoulder, “you know, I don’t know what happened to it. It disappeared when I moved into the condo I bought a couple years after you left.”

“Your brother probably reclaimed it.”

“Probably.”

“We could get more you know…”

“You want another weekend, Dean?”

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean scrubbed his hand roughly through his hair. “Is it too chick flick to tell you that I missed you. I missed your voice and your laugh, your messy hair and your denim blue eyes … and, yes, I’ve missed your body moving against mine.”

“You’ve missed my cock,” Cas said raising an eyebrow. 

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, you know, you’ve got me half hard just sitting here talking to you.”

“What do you want, Dean? Do you want to get off?” How much time were they going to spend staring at each other, Cas wondered. Because he could do it all day, every day, and never grow bored, but this was a skype call and, and, his brain spun out not finishing the thought.

Dean palmed the front of his flight suit and blew a breath out. “Always. But right now, I just want to keep talking to you. I’ve got about ten more minutes before I need to head back to bunk down for the night.”

Cas sat in stunned silence. He just wanted to talk? Had Cas done something wrong? Had he gotten too sentimental? Had Dean? Cas scrubbed his face with his hands.

Finally, he got his expression back to flirty and a little turned on, and took his hands away from his face asking, “sure. Sounds good. What do you want to talk about? Do you want to catch up on the years since we last saw each other?”

“Maybe another time, Cas. Right now, I kind of want to keep walking down memory lane of what it was like fucking you in that tiny apartment when we were little more than kids.”

Cas closed his eyes and whispered, “I can do that,” wishing he could touch and taste all that smooth, velvety skin. But also really wanting to pull Dean into his arms and hold him close for the rest of the night. Fucker was confusing him. 

Dean rubbed his hand at the back of his neck, looked into the screen and said, “damn, I wish I were sucking you off right now. I have missed having your cock in my mouth, heavy on my tongue, aching jaw, your hands in my hair…”

“You were so good at that,” Cas rubbed his hand over his lips like he could feel Dean’s on his.

“I’ll show you that I still am after I get home if you want,” Dean spoke lowly.

Cas scrubbed his hands over his face again and looked away from the screen. He wanted a lot of things. Things he wasn’t going to get. Time passed between them, just looking at each other and not speaking. The silence was thick with things unsaid.

Dean coughed breaking the spell. “Hey, is that a tattoo?” Dean asked catching a glimpse of what looked like lettering down the ribs of Cas’ left side.

Cas covered it with his hand.

“No, no, don’t hide, baby. It’s ok, you don’t have to tell me about it.” Den frowned at the thought of making Cas uncomfortable.

“No, it’s nothing secret. .. It’s just … it’s an ancient protection spell.”

“Protection spell? To protect what?”

Cas swallowed, “My heart.”

The former lovers stared at each other for a few moments longer, each unwilling to break eye contact. Finally, Dean said, voice low, “Babe, I’ve gotta’ get back soon. The station goes on power save when we sleep, and I need to be back in my berth before that happens. It can get cold quick.”

Cas felt a different kind of cold settle in his stomach as Dean was hedging his way out of their call, obviously Dean didn’t want to linger. “Of course, Dean. I’ll talk to you in a couple of days.” 

And Cas broke the connection just as Dean said, “a couple of days? Wait, Cas…”

But Cas was gone. Wf? Dean banged his head softly on the glass of the cupola. Cas had made it pretty clear that where Dean had wanted to reminisce and talk about the past as a way to move into a discussion of a possible future, Cas had just wanted sex. Dean was still just a pretty face, and Cas was still all about his career. And Dean was so fucked because even after he rotated home, he still had to work with the man. Because he mostly lived at Sam’s place in Houston and he reported to work at Johnson for his regular job. And his carefully packed away feelings had broken out of their careful little box in his heart, and had taken over the place. Cas didn’t want a relationship. Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh. Wires got crossed somewhere along the way. What happens now that Cas thinks Dean doesn't want him, and Dean thinks that Cas doesn't want him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things between our boys run completely off the rails. Sam valiantly tries to help. How long will he put up with Dean's stubbornness?
> 
> Important Note: My version of Meg is in Rachel Minor's wheelchair, but I'm not sure I made that clear in earlier chapters. I'll go back and check. It won't impact the earlier chapters' plot at all because there's no reason a mission controller couldn't be in a wheelchair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow is pretty busy, so I'm posting this today - a day early. Next post is Wednesday.
> 
>  
> 
> Remember: I'm still not an astronaut or an astrophysicist. Best keep your seatbelt on.

A week passed with nothing but routine exchanges between ISS and MC. As their Flight Director, Cas was professional and distant, and as Commander of the ISS, Dean was professional and reserved. There were no more riddles, but both teams were a well-oiled machine, and their missions marched on. The resupply shuttle docked and transferred the cargo without a hitch, mints, cookies, lube and all. 

***

Every time he ran, Cas thought about his and Dean’s call, what it all meant, what it suggested Dean wanted. And Cas isn’t kidding himself, he knows he’s been lonely. But he also remembers how hard it was to get over Dean the first time. And he remembers vividly how their weekend utterly consumed his attention -- he’d never been like that before, and he hadn’t been that way since, mindless in his need, relentless in his desire. But he also genuinely liked Dean. He was smart, brave, driven, kind, and really funny. Cas added a little distance to his run every day - pushed himself that much harder. But nothing with Dean became clearer.

***  
The next week ...

“Hey, Dean,” Sam started.

And Dean responded warily (because ‘hey Dean’ often meant Sam wanted to talk feelings), “hey, Sam.”

They were alone in the control module ready to tuck in for the night. 

“What’s going on?, You seem quiet lately. Is it Cas?’

Dean scrubbed at his face. He didn’t really want to talk about it, but he was trapped in space with his brother, and Sam’s instincts were always the best kind. Dean took a deep breath, “Yeah, it’s Cas.”

“What’s going on with you two. I thought you were flirting and getting along, and then it kind of cooled off.” 

Dean snorted, “more like crashed into a wall and exploded on impact.”

“What?! He broke up with you? IN ORBIT!?” Sam’s eyes were wide, and if Dean were honest, those eyes had a little flare of anger too. Nice. He could always count on Sammy.

“We didn’t break up; we were never together, alright?” Dean chuckled, the sound harsh and bitter.

“OK, if this is about phone sex, then don’t answer my question, but if it is about anything else, then, you know, tell me what happened.” Sam slid into his sleeping cubicle, keeping the curtain open so he could still talk to his big brother.

Dean, still hovering next to his cubicle, rubbed his hand at the back of his neck in a familiar gesture, “I don’t know. I like him. I thought he liked me. I was glad to see him again. I really wanted to try to make it work once we’re both back on Earth.”

Sam sat in stunned silence. “Say, something, Sammy,” Dean demanded feeling all manner of embarrassed. 

Sam whistled low, “Damn. I know you’ve been wanting to put down roots for awhile now, but … damn, Cas must be something special.”

“Dude, you know he is. And he’s keeping me at arm’s length. It sucks.”

“What do you mean? Just because he’s been closed down or ...” Sam paused as Dean slid into his own cubicle and got tucked in. He used the laptop on his wall to confirm the nightly power save cycle that would make things cooler or warmer, depending on which side of the earth they were rotating - sun side or dark side.

Dean huffed, “do you want to know the gory details?”

 

“Of your phone sex call when you were slipping into bed after lights out last week. No. Ew. But you’ve been running on the treadmill like something’s chasing you so, yeah, I do want to know what’s going on with you.”

“It wasn’t phone sex! Not exactly … we were talkin’ about our weekend.”

“The weekend you’re still hung up on ten years later? You say it was good sex, but being this strung out all these years later says there was something a lot more than just chemistry back then.”

“Sammy …”

“No, Dean,” Sam said with the little brother whine, “don’t Sammy me. Just tell me what happened. Start with the silly jokes.”

Dean sighed. Sighing was becoming a state of being. Like hungry, sleepy, grumpy, silly, sigh-y. That was totally a thing. “OK, so I started by every day telling him super cheesy jokes. At first, he didn’t play along, but after awhile, he was smiling and stuff. So, then, when the resupply orders came up, I added packs of lube so he would have to call me and ask me to confirm the order.”

Sam choked out, “wait, what? You did what!? You made him call you about lube!? You ordered lube, knowing the freakin’ Flight Director would have to call and check on your request?!”

Dean let out and exasperated breath, “it was funny! You have no idea how much lube we went through that weekend. I thought he’d remember and think it was funny!”

Sam blew his breath out between his pressed-together lips, “and did he think it was funny?”

Dean made a growling sound, “I think so? He chuckled and played along, but I’m not sure he totally got the teasing.”

“OK, so you’ve been joking with him and teasing him. Then what?” 

“Then what? Then nothing! I made a date with him because I wanted to talk to him about the past and maybe how we’d build a future, but when we finally got on the call, he just seemed to want sex. And then he ended the call pretty abruptly. And he’s been cold since.”

Sam scrubbed at his eyes, a gesture he’d picked up from his brother and that never failed to make him think of Dean when he did it, “ok, so that’s it? Nothing else. That’s … kinda odd.”

Dean huffed, “well, you’re kinda odd.”

Sam snickered at his brother’s frustration, then he asked, “It sounds like you two have your wires crossed, maybe. So, what do you want from this guy? Whatever you want, you’ve got to tell him.”

Dean rubbed his hands over his face, “I don’t know, man. I thought we had something worth pursuing, now that we’re older and stable in our careers and stuff, but he just wants me for sex. At least that’s what it seemed like. He was the one doing all the, um, initiating. And I was trying to slow it down.”

Sam started laughing at the absurdity of Dean trying to take something slowly. “Hey!” Dean complained. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Sam chuckled reigning the outburst in. “Did you try to talk about when you’d be home and maybe a meetup or something? Did you try, you know, a breakfast date?”

Dean groaned and scrubbed at his face again. “I tried! But then we just kept going back to the past, and he avoided the present. He doesn’t want me, I don’t think.”

“Well, did you tell him you wanted a relationship?”

“God, no!”

“How’s he supposed to know what you want if you don’t tell him!?”

“Well, that’s the 10,000 dollar question, isn’t it. But I don’t want to be needy, Sammy. I just don’t know what to do.”

Sam took a breath. This had to be handled carefully. Gently, he said, “I think you can’t know what he wants until you tell him you want to try a relationship and ask him what he wants. Put your cards on the table.”

It was Dean’s turn to scoff, “Is that what you’re going to do with Eileen. Wave your cards to convince her to want you.”

“Hey, don’t bring me into this. Eileen and I are just fine as hospital colleagues until I can get on the ground again and talk to her again. We’ve never even had a date. Your situation is totally different. You have a history you can actually build on, so why don’t you!?”

Dean pressed his hands over his eyes, and breathed out heavily, “Why isn’t this easier?”

“You mean easy like, ‘hi, I’m Dean, I'm an astronaut, let’s take off our pants,’ because, Dean, if you really like this guy, he’s not a one night stand anymore. He’s a boyfriend. And that means learning how to talk to him.”

“Fuck.”

“Ask him to meet you in the cupola again.”

“No, Sammy.”

“Yes, Dean. Dude, you’re awesome. You’re smart, you have a great career, you’re a helluva nice guy, you’d be a terrific dad. You’re the whole package. So if you’re ever gonna get the picket fence and the little girls with ponytails hanging off your arms, then you have to, Put. Yourself. Out. There.

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

*** 

Meg rolled up to his station and leaned her elbows on his desk.

“Meg?” He asked without looking up from his monitor.

“Was wondering if you wanted to go to breakfast after this?” she asked him, casually, twisting her long brunette waves around her index finger.

“I don’t think so, Meg.”

“Brunch, then? I know a place that does a great andouille benedict. “

Cas looked up at her expecting to see teasing, but only seeing sincerity. “What are you doing, Meg?” He asked. She was both competent at her job and sarcastic with the ISS crew, but he didn’t think of her as someone like that… she was pretty and a handful, and he’d thought her to be flirting. He didn’t think of her as friendship material.

She sighed, “you’ve been kind of distant recently, which is not how my friends at Marshall described you. So, I was thinking maybe you could use a friend to talk to. Especially since things seem to have gone chilly with Captain Winchester.”

She smiled and cocked her head to one side, crossing her arms over her chest and waiting him out.

He chuckled at her sparkling eyes and asked, “so does this andouille eggs benedict place also have french toast?”

“The thickest, creamiest french toast ever.”

“OK, friend, let’s get brunch and then catch a mindless superhero movie, what do you think?”

She chuckled in response, “I think it’s a date!” And she pivoted to roll away from his desk. After rolling a few feet, she turned back, “and this doesn’t get you out of talking about Winchester.”

“Wouldn’t dream of trying. But it might take some mimosas.”

“They’ve got mimosas, a bloody mary bar, and five kinds of bellinis. We’ll be well soaked in liquid courage.”

“Perfect.” 

*** 

 

A few uneventful days later ...

“This is Spaceman Spiff broadcasting to you live and in color from the International Space Station, trick or treat, Mission Control!”

“This is Mission Control, happy Halloween and blessed Samhain, ISS. You are ‘five by’ this spooky morning.” 

Across Mission Control, many of the flight controllers were wearing alien antennas and witch hats. 

“Trick or treat!” Dean spoke again.

Cas looked up and smiled to see Dean alone, wearing square black sunglasses and with his hair standing straight up like the famous Calvin & Hobbes comic character. “And where is the rest of the ISS, Spaceman Spiff?”

Dean ducked his head to the side, “MC, I asked them to hang back a minute so I could talk to you, trick or treat?”

“What are you doing, Commander Winchester?” Cas asked eyes narrowed.

“I’m trying to trick or treat you, but you’re not cooperating, trick or treat, Cas.”

“Dean, is your trick or treat-ing an attempt to flirt with me?”

“Well if you’re not going to play along, my trick is to flirt with you, my treat is to ask you on another cupola date, just you and me. How about it?”

“Dean, it’s obvious we want different things.”

“It is?” Dean rubbed his hand over his mouth. 

Cas crossed his arms over his chest and plowed ahead, “and you and I both have high profile, high stress careers. I’m beyond the age where a weekend hookup is enough for me.”

“But …” Dean began.

And Cas continued over Dean talking, “... no matter how amazing the sex could be.” Cas’ face was impassive, his eyes determined.

Dean nodded once, and swallowed. “Sure, Cas. Okay.” And then he fiddled with his tablet.

Suddenly, the tiny room was full of crew yelling, “trick or treat,” at Mission Control. Each astronaut was wearing a name tag of a famous astronaut, including: Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, Scott Kelly, Mae Jemison, and Valentina Tereshkova.

Cas, along with the flight controllers, laughed aloud, “ah, very clever!”

“You’re not wearing a costume, Cas,” Pam told him with a pretty pout.

“Yeah he is. He’s an ex-boyfriend,” Dean laughed aloud. Sam cringed, but the others laughed along with Dean’s teasing tone. Sam gave Cas a little shake of his head and mouthed, “sorry.” 

Cas swallowed, then said, “let’s get you into your morning meeting, ISS, and he clicked the buttons to move the video call to the big screen.

“We are Johnson Mission Control, happy Halloween, ISS, may all your trick or treaters be the friendly type of aliens,” the controllers began. Cas tuned out, his stomach roiling. 

What just happened?! Why was Dean suddenly being such an assbutt? Just because Cas set boundaries, that didn’t give Dean the right to try to make him feel bad about it, as if Dean were a victim or something. Sure, he’d only known Dean two and a half days, ten years ago, but he was a decent judge of character and he hadn’t thought Dean to be petty or cruel. Fine. Who needed him, anyway. Yes, Cas had some lovely memories that had taken on too-rosy of a tint over the years, but that was in the past. And now it was going to stay in the past.

*** 

“Dean, what the hell was that?” Sam asked pulling his older brother aside after the morning meeting.

Dean set his jaw and crossed his arms over his chest, “what was what, Sam?”

“Come on, Dean. You called Cas an ex-boyfriend, were you trying to be a dick?”

“Maybe I just come by it naturally,” Dean shot back, pushing himself off a nearby wall.

Sam caught his brother, and they both drifted upward together for a moment before coming to rest against the opposite wall. “Dean, what’s going on? I’m not letting you go until you tell me, so you may as well settle in.”

Dean let out an exasperated huff. “Fine. I tried to get another phone date with him, but he told me that he only wanted a relationship and then he shut me down.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense since he knows you want a relationship too!”

“Um, nah. I never got that far. I was trying to set up the date thing. I was gonna talk to him alone so we could discuss feelings and shit, right? But he didn’t let me get that far. He shut me down.” Dean chewed his lower lip.

Sam’s eyes widened. “So, what, you’re saying that he embarrassed you, so you didn’t tell him that you wanted the same things, and then you got all petty with the ex-boyfriend comment.”

“That was a joke!” Dean snapped.

“It wasn’t funny!” Sam snapped back. “Dean, you have to tell him.”

 

“No, Sam. I’ve spent weeks flirting with him, and he doesn’t even give me a chance to talk to him. No, I’m done. Can I go now?”

“Can you go now?!” Sam’s voice was incredulous. “You’re willing to give up maybe your best shot at real happiness and a life with someone because of a misunderstanding!?”

“No, Sam, he made it pretty clear he doesn’t want me, and I’m not going to try to force him. It is what it is.” Dean sighed, “but I gotta get to work, so you gonna let me go?”

“Fine. But this isn’t over, Dean. We’ll figure something out,” Sam replied with puppy dog eyes.

Dean sighed, waved to his brother, and pushed off the wall to head along to his and Pam’s telemetry project.

 

***  
Later over Bananas Foster French toast and mimosas … 

“What the hell was that, Cas?” Meg hissed into his ear. “Why’s he such an asshole suddenly when he’s spent weeks flirting with you.”

“Because when he asked me on another “date,” I told him I wasn’t interested in being anyone’s hookup anymore. Then a few minutes later, he’s calling me an ex-boyfriend. But we were never boyfriends!”

Meg started at him, wide-eyed and incredulous. “Cas, you don’t flirt with and pour the 100 watt charm on someone for weeks … WEEKS, and then say you’re only in it for sex. He’s Dean Fucking Winchester! An astronaut! Sex on a stick! An honest-to-god-American-Hero. I guarantee you if he wants a hookup, all he has to do is give the smoulder to the nearest woman, and panties will drop on cue.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Cas grumped. Slouching in his chair and poking at the banana slices on his plate.

“No, seriously. What did he say when you told him?”

Cas thought back, “uh, nothing else really.”

“What do you mean he said nothing!? Is he really that big of an asshole to make a snarky comment after you said no?”

Cas crossed his arms and thought for another moment, “um, well, then I shut him down when he started trying to ‘reason’ with me because I didn’t want him to talk me into anything, because I’d give in. I know I would.”

“Wait, so you don’t actually know that he doesn’t want a relationship?” Meg stared at him.

Cas glowered back, “If he did, he didn’t say anything.” 

Meg arched her brow, “because you cut him off! You said so! Are you two really this dense?” 

“Hey! All he had to do was finish a sentence, any one sentence, and I would have listened to him.” Cas picked up his fork and stuffed a large bit of French toast in his mouth and chewed furiously. 

“How was he supposed to know that? You probably hurt his feelings when you wouldn’t let him talk. Feelings aren’t easy for everybody.” She leaned over the table and rubbed his arm as his face fell.

Cas sighed. “Well, it’s done now anyway.”

Meg smacked his arm, “Cas! You have to talk to him! He has to know. He might want the same thing.”

“No. I don’t want anyone who makes jokes at my expense.” Cas crossed his arms again.

Meg huffed in exasperation, “or because you hurt his feelings, he could have been trying to cover that hurt with humor. You don’t know, and you can’t until you talk to him.”

Cas slid his chair back and rose, tossed his napkin on the table and scooped up the check. “No, Meg. What’s done is done, and I really have to get home and get some rest.”

She sat there frozen, shoulders slumped in sadness, and then she sighed. “This is ridiculous, Cas. You two are ridiculous,” she called after him, but Cas just kept walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are we going to do with these boys?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (yet another reminder that I'd love to date an astronaut, but I am not an astronaut. nor am i a doctor. please feel free to tell me if i've got something horribly wrong)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean has an accident.

Another frosty week later …

Dean was two weeks from shipping home. He and Pam ran another docking simulation just to be sure they had it right. Kevin had integrated almost all of the robotics equipment and upgrades that had transported up with him and came in with the resupply. The flight that was going to dock to bring Dean and company home would deliver the new remote operations joystick for the robo arm with interchangeable hand controls for Kevin to install. Kevin had been surprised, shocked really, to know they could deliver the equipment five weeks from the time he’d had trouble with it, but Johnson had been running tests on dexterity degradation in microgravity, and so a new system of controls was already developed and entering test phases when Kevin sent in his report that the system caused more fatigue in smaller hands than previously reported. 3D printing was going to change fabrication forever.

Today, Dean, with the assistance of the ISS’ robotic arm, was on a spacewalk to move Kevin’s empty storage module out of its docked position into a standby space so it could be picked up and returned to earth when the crew rotated out. Pam was operating the robotic arm from inside the ISS, and Dean was guiding the module by hand from the outside. 

“Dean, how are we doing out there?” Pam asked as she gently manipulated the hand controls for the robo arm. “Looks great, Pam,” Mick whispered from where he stood slightly behind her, just far enough from her shoulder to be watching without hovering.

Dean responded, “lookin’ good, Pam. We’re halfway there.”

A few moments later, Dean chimed in again, “we’re just a little close to the outer surface of the ISS, can you move us back a hair?”

Pam’s hand was stiff as she carefully controlled her movements to try to give Dean a little more clearance between himself and the surface of the ISS.

In zero gravity, the astronauts can feel like they’re floating. Their movements can feel slow and controlled, but it’s often an illusion. Just because the astronauts are in freefall the entire time they’re aboard the ISS, that doesn’t mean physics doesn’t still apply. Which is what Sam was telling himself when he hooked a handhold too hard and yanked himself into a passage and crashed into Billie. Normally this would have been something they’d laughed over, well, Billie would have laughed and Sam would have blushed and apologized profusely.

But the mild smashup pushed Billie from the passage into the module, where she bumped into Mick, who was shoved into Pam’s back, causing Pam to, very briefly, lose control of the robo arm. Just for a moment, they were all suspended in shock, until they all heard Dean let out an “oof” over the comms channel. 

“Oh god,” Pam breathed when she regained control of the robo arm and returned her focus to the screen. “Kevin!” she yelled. “Kevin!” Mick, getting a clear look at the screen, also joined her in yelling for Kevin. 

“What’s happening!?” Sam shouted just as Kevin came into view, pulling himself along the handholds from the robotics lab module at opposite end of the ISS. Sam and Billie both flattened themselves against the nearest wall to make room for Kevin to get into the command module with Pam and Mick. 

As Pam’s screen came into Kevin’s view, he gasped, “oh, crap,” and then he transmitted, “Dean, respond please.” He paused for a few seconds and tried again, “Dean, this is Kevin, can you respond?” 

Mick reached forward but Pam smacked his arm, “don’t touch that joystick until we know for sure he’s still anchored to the robo arm!” 

“She’s right,” Kevin agreed. “We need to look this over carefully and see if we can assess his situation, potential injuries, and status before we attempt to rescue him.”

Sam drifted up behind them and got a clear look at Pam’s screen for the first time. Dean was pressed up against the side of the Station and pinned there by the robo arm. Dean hung limply there in his spacesuit, neither moving nor answering calls.

The medical flight controllers came on the comms, “ISS this is Johnson MC, we got a wobble on Dean Winchester’s vitals just now, please report.”

“MC, this is ISS Flight Surgeon Winchester, confirming that Commander Winchester was guiding a storage module that was held by the robo arm. This is the module we scheduled today as moving for pickup when the shift change and resupply arrives. He was operating very close to the side of the Station. Pam was operating the robo arm. A small, accidental bump to Pam’s shoulder caused a brief loss of control of the robo arm which then caused Dean to be pinned to the side of the Station by the arm. His vitals look solid from here, he is breathing, but we see reduced brain activity, and he isn’t responding to our calls. We think he’s unconscious, request verification of assessment on his condition,” Sam paused to take a breath and wait for MC to respond. He squeezed Pam’s shoulder.

“Standby, ISS.”

“Confirm, MC, we are standing by,” Sam replied and then turned to his colleagues, “Dean is fine, guys, he’s always fine.” His golden brown and green eyes told the story of absolute faith in his older brother. And only a slight tremor in the hand resting on Pam’s shoulder gave away his anxiety. “But I need to get him in here and so I can check him out. What’s the plan to do that?” Sam crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Ok, yeah, we need to get him out of there,” Pam spoke mostly to herself, it’s not as if anyone was in disagreement. “Sam, let’s get the Flight Director on the horn and start running the plan for pulling Dean back in.” She rubbed away moisture from her eyes and began pulling up procedures on her tablet. Mick and the others drifted back to let Sam take a seat next to Pam.

 

“ISS, this is MC, Flight Director and flight controllers,” Cas concentrated on keeping his voice level even as every eye in Mission Control was turned to the big screen, “Flight surgeons here on the ground agree with your assessment. Unconscious and probably a concussion based on the video and your account. What are your next steps?”

“Thank you, MC,” Sam replied with a sigh of relief, squeezing Pam’s shoulder again, and then clapping his hands together. Everyone got the message that this was go time for them all.

“MC, Pam is going to go EVA to check Winchester’s suit integrity and physical condition. Then, in coordination with the robotics engineer, she will shift the robo arm, secure Winchester, and make an assessment: one option is to finish setting the storage unit in place since he was close, and then return him to the airlock. Or, if Dean’s condition is precarious, Pam will bring Dean straight in, and Kevin will operate the robo arm to move the storage container the rest of the way into position. If minor adjustments are needed, Pam will EVA again to complete them, after Winchester’s condition is confirmed.”

“Confirmed, ISS. We will keep this line open to answer questions or for advisement until Winchester is confirmed,” Cas spoke words carefully enunciated. He caught Meg’s worried eyes looking at him, but he couldn’t take comfort in it now. Not while Dean’s body was hanging lifeless off the side of the space station. “MC,” Sam’s voice was clear and strong, “Dean’s suit had eight hours of air. He’s been out there an hour now. By the time we get out to him, he’ll have been there more than two hours. We don’t know how long it’s going to take us to get him back inside ISS.” 

“We hear you, ISS,” Meg, all business, replied. “This is Environmental. We have started a clock for you, confirm 60 minutes.” 

Cas settled into his chair watching the flight controllers talk Pam and Sam through getting Pam into the second EVA suit. That alone would take 45 minutes, plus a few more minutes for safety checks. Then she had to go on a slow, ponderous space walk to get to Dean. He would be out there at least another 90 minutes. And, of course, another 45 minutes to get him and Pam out of their suits again once they got him back. This would be slow going.

They could watch his vitals though. Cas kept watching and listening even as his mind drifted. Dean. His astronaut. His responsibility. His Dean. It was blurry -- when had he blurred those lines? And the unsettling discomfiture of being separated from Dean came crawling along his skin. Garth placed a cup of coffee on his station and squeezed his shoulder before returning to his station. (In some remote part of his mind, Cas had the sudden realization that everyone knew there was or had been something between him and the charming commander. He’d freak out about that more fully later.)

Pam was into her suit, and the crew retreated so she could leave through the airlock. All the indicators were clean and she began her slow journey to reach Dean. Cas listened as the ISS crew and his flight controllers ran through their plan again with Pam in motion. He thought about Dean with his racy teasing and his silly riddles and his beautiful, if too thin, body. If he had Dean in his bed again, he’d make sure to feed him well. Make sure he got enough rest. To fill him out some, so he could gain back some of the weight he’d lost in space. When Sam got Dean back on the station, Cas knew he would take care of his brother. And that was a huge relief but also a source of resentment. His astronaut. His responsibility. And, frustratingly, maybe the love of his life. He continued to watch and listen as the ISS prepared for their EVA.

“Chief,” his EVA flight controller, Gordon Walker, gave Cas the final run down, and Cas approved the plan. Then came the voice of Kevin Tran on the call, “MC we are ready to begin.”

“120 minutes, ISS,” Meg replied.

“Confirm 120 minutes, MC,” Kevin answered.

“Sam, Rory,” Cas cut in. “If he was knocked out, shouldn’t he be conscious by now?”

“He could be, and he’s just not talking,” said Rory. “He could be dizzy or drowsy or disoriented, I mean, his vitals look strong. There’s no telling if he’s conscious or not until we actually get to him if he isn’t up to talking to us now.”

Sam nodded and added, “Dean, as a test pilot, has put his brain stem through some stressful experiences, but he’s had no traumatic injuries. I’m with Rory. He might be conscious and just disoriented, but it probably isn’t serious. We’ll get him back, Cas, and then we’ll check him out and have something to tell you. Maybe he starts talking to us in the meantime.”

Cas stood for a moment, his left arm crossed over his chest and chewing on his right thumb. He nodded once, “proceed with retrieval, ISS,” Cas issued the order, and Pam eased out the airlock to pick her way through the slow and careful journey around the station to where Dean was pinned. He’d been out there 80 minutes, almost an hour and a half, so far. Cas took a deep breath, settled into his chair, and waited.

Pam moved slowly but steadily toward Dean’s position. Another ten minutes passed, and five more, and then she arrived. “Dean,” she tapped his helmet, and he groaned audibly. 

“Dean?” she tapped again. 

He blinked his eyes at her and said, “Pam?” and then mumbled something about salt. 

She felt the vice loosen its grip on her chest. He was awake. One big hurdle behind them. Then she said, “Sam, he’s still out of it but he’s awake. Kevin, I’m going to check the integrity of his suit, watch my camera feed to see if you can spot anything I might miss.” Kevin and Sam agreed, and Cas held his breath watching the feed from Pam’s suit camera. 

“Dean,” Sam called out to Dean on the comm channel. “Sammy …” Dean murmured, then he said, “I’m gonna take a nap.” 

“Dean! Maybe save the nap for later and talk to me about the awesome spacewalk.” 

“I’m awesome,” Dean rasped. 

Sam chuckled in relief with tears welling in his eyes. “Dude, you had me so stressed out. Happy now that you’ve got everyone’s attention?”

Dean rasped again, “where’s my angel?”

“Dean? What angel?” Sam’s voice was puzzled. Was Dean delusional?

“...’s Cas. Castiel,” Dean gasped and coughed. 

“Dean, I’m here Dean,” Cas spoke across the 250+ miles of open space. But Dean didn’t answer.

Suits have complex alarms for possible systems failures and breaches, but it was still procedure to also check manually as well. Pam cautiously and thoroughly patted along Dean’s suit, but there was no evidence of a breach in integrity. Pam double checked the seals around his hoses, but those were fine as well. A small and irrational flare of jealousy burned through Cas’ chest as Pam continued to touch Dean. Mine, he thought and then huffed at his own ridiculousness. Pam had a job to do. Gordon Walker was following along closely with Pam, they kept up a continuous stream of instructions and verification. Time ticked by. 

“OK,” Pam told them, “I’m going to verify his anchor line is still secure.” And Pam checked the connection to Dean’s suit and followed it along to its attachment to the robo arm. Mick followed along on camera still in constant dialogue with Pam as she did her work. Finally, interminable minutes later, Pam told Kevin and Mick that she was ready for a small movement of the robo arm. Kevin squeezed the joystick and gently moved the arm about a foot away from the station.

“140 minutes, ISS,” Meg informed them all.

“Dean?” Sam asked. “I need you to wake up buddy. Dean, can you hear me?”

Dean muttered something and then, “tell angelCas to meet me in the cupola.” Everyone smirked and chuckled as the astronaut drifted back to sleep.

Cas muttered, “assbutt,” under his breath but his tone was fond. That was his assbutt, maybe, out there.

Pam double-checked, making sure she was tethered to Dean and the robo arm, then she gave Kevin the word that he could begin to slowly move the cargo container into place, and she would guide it in. She gently applied a little pressure as the cargo container moved, until after another few minutes, it locked into place. Kevin detached the arm from the container and began to pull it back along the rails toward the airlock. 

“Dean,” she called, squeezing his arm. 

Then Sam came in with “Dean?” 

Then Cas followed with, “commander Winchester, can you respond?” 

Dean mumbled again. 

Meg flicked her eyes to Cas and gave him a small, warm smile. She mouthed “angel?” at him. He blushed and cocked his head saying, “Dean,” I’ll agree to meet you in the cupola if you wake up and talk to me.” 

Sam tapped the console in front of him, a nervous tic showing the anxiety that was otherwise behind his cool, professional, frankly badass exterior.. “Give me a couple more minutes, and we’ll have them back on board,” Kevin spoke up as he gently manipulated the controls. Cas’ hands tightened on the arms of his chair. 

An alarm at the medical console went off. The sound was relayed in to comms to ISS.

“Dean!” Sam shouted, then he sat straight up and pulled a tablet from its mount on the console. He slipped in an earpiece and began conferring directly on his tablet with the medical controllers on the ground. There were at least four separate conversations between ISS and MC - Sam and the medical flight controllers, Pam and Gordon the EVA controller, Kevin and the robotics controller, and Meg was conferring with Mick about something. Cas knew they all knew their jobs, and they were looping him in with periodic updates, but the alarm jarred him horribly.

“What is it!?” Cas asked, voice tight with concern. Thoren, an MD and one of the medical controllers, was talking quickly with his counterpart, Rory, and they were conferenced in with Sam. “Status!” he demanded. All the eyes in the room looked at their Flight Director and then quickly snapped back to their consoles, everyone working the problem.

Meg shouted. “Is this environmental? Do I need to patch in there?” Rory raised her hand in the universal sign for give me one minute. She checked her console and Sam agreed with her numbers. The alarm shut off. Then Rory turned to look at Castiel and the rest of the silent room, “oxygen is fine. Blood pressure went hinky. Dropped a bit. It’s sorting itself out now, but we need Sam to do a physical and biometric exam. I’m going to get back to this,” she gestured back to her station, and Castiel nodded, saying, “Yes, go! Go!”

As Cas well knew, time in space can cause cardiovascular changes with neurological shifts and temporary changes in genetic expressions. There are a number of health risks to a career in space, and a head injury, even a minor one, is something to worry about for both short and long term consequences. Cas tapped his fingers on the desk as Rory, Thoren and Sam continued their rapid run down of every possible issue as established by procedure. Cas took a deep breath, praying that they be fast and methodical at the same time.

At 200 minutes, Pam pulled Dean carefully through the airlock. She confirmed the lock seals, and then Sam opened up the station door and he and Pam pulled Dean through into the suit room. Sam began loosening Dean’s helmet. Mick crammed into the small space and began to help Pam out of her spacesuit. Pulling off Dean’s helmet, Sam checked his neck and his pupil response. Then he patted his older brother’s face, “come on, Dean, wake up; you’ve had a long enough nap.” Nothing. “Come on, Dean!” Sam snapped. "Come on!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ruh-roh
> 
> (sorry sorry sorry!)


	8. Brotherly Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bro time for our boys. Sam is the best brother ever.
> 
> I rushed this out, so pardon the typos.

“Come on!” Sam shouted. He was going to kill Dean for having this concussion in space and causing all this drama. “Come on!” 

Sam pressed his fingers into Dean’s neck more firmly this time, and then, in a huff, pinched the skin there. Hard.

Dean squinted, trying to flutter open his eyes. “Owww,” he grumped.

“Dude, you’re awake. Finally,” Sam sat in a crouch over Dean glaring into his eyes.

“You ...fucking pinched me,” Dean gasped out, “do doctors fucking,” Dean coughed, “pinch people?” Dean blinked several times trying to clear his vision. He was still stuck in this suit, and he really wanted to rub his eyes.

“Shutup Dean, it worked, didn’t it?” Sam continued his work unapologetically

Dean tried to move and ended only moving his limbs a little, he was basically a turtle in this multimillion dollar getup, “asshole.” 

“You’re the asshole,“ Sam shot back, his voice thick with relief. 

Mick and Sam worked to get their two crewmates out of their suits, and after about 15 minutes of disconnecting suit pieces, Dean roused enough to answer questions, though he still complained of dizziness and disorientation. He still moved his limbs like an upended turtle to display his frustration. Sam snickered. A lot.

Thirty agonizing minutes after that, Dean and Pam were out of their suits, and Dean was strapped to a backboard. MC had been quiet except for the back and forth chatter between Mick and the EVA Controller, Gordon. 

Pam moved forward through the compartments toward the command module, and Sam gently pushed his brother through the modules to the medical module and lab. Pam settled into the command module where Kevin was running diagnostics on the robo arm, and Billie was backing him up. 

“Mick? You think you can help me?” Sam asked over his shoulder.

“Of course, Sam, I’ll get him settled into the med bed and hooked up to the monitors while you do the workup.” 

“MC, you still with us?” Sam asked, as he and Mick maneuvered Dean into position. Mick shifted him to the med bed with Dean’s help, then strapped him down, while Sam began pulling off Dean’s base layers that he’d worn under his suit to stay cool and not overheat. 

Dean grumped and wiggled as Sam tugged on him, and Mick worked the straps to keep him from floating.

“Yes, Sam. Go ahead.” Cas’ voice sounded breathy to his own ears.

“Mick and I are examining him now, but I think we’re still where we were, that Dean has a concussion and he was unconscious, then dizzy and disoriented. Those symptoms are common enough, but if all he had to look at was space and the ISS, it probably added to his vertigo. You know we can’t do an MRI up here, but we can monitor his vitals and run manual tests to judge cognitive recovery. We’ll do this work up through the MC flight surgeons, and submit a report in an hour.”

“Thank you, ISS, Is Dean awake?” Cas asked, not even bothering to hide the worry in his voice.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean’s voice came through low and dry since he’d been breathing canned oxygen for coming up on four hours.

Cas smiled broadly and then looked down at his feet and took a deep breath. He raised his eyes to the big screen again and said, “excellent work, Dr. Winchester, you have the thanks of Mission Control. The room erupted in cheers for Sam. He just gave them a goofy smile then waved them off so he could get back to work.

“Hello, Dean. Are you alright?” Cas still wasn’t bothering to hide the worry in his voice. This was one of his astronauts, and he could worry if he wanted to. Hell, all of MC was worried for the well-liked mission commander. Dean rasped something unintelligible.

“Dean!” Cas’ eyes went wide. Dean cleared his dry throat again and Mick let him take a sip of water.

“He’s just a little dry, it’s OK, MC, just a little dry.” Mick told them, continuing to hold the water packet for Dean.

Dean cleared his throat and then took another sip, “Hey Cas, how do you spell ‘a pretty boy’ with only two letters?” Dean asked coughing at the end.

“I don’t know Dean, how do you spell ‘a pretty boy’ with only two letters?” Cas chuckled, transfixed by the view of Dean alive and joking on the screen. He didn’t notice the broad smiles all across Mission Control.

“Dean smiled widely and said, “QT,” and then he laughed uproariously at his own joke, ending with a coughing fit. 

Cas covered his eyes with his right hand and giggled uncontrollably. All of Mission Control rose to their feet cheering for their ridiculously charming astronaut.

Cas felt himself blush deep red at the very public flirting from Dean, but he smiled into the camera and spoke, “glad to have you back, commander.”

The cheering continued as Dean managed a small wave to the camera.

“Alright, everyone! Medical is handling this. Let’s all get ourselves back to whatever it is we are supposed to be doing. We’ve got to have everything ready for the upcoming transfer flight and we’ve only got less than two weeks left. Let’s go!” Cas called out.

Everyone got back to work, and Cas walked over to the robotics engineering console, asking them to put a call through to Kevin. After a brief discussion between the robotics controllers, Kevin and Cas, Kevin said he thought the mishap was your basic space accident. Things happened, and small errors were multiplied in freefall. Cas wanted to be sure it wasn’t the same issue with the joysticks that Kevin had been exploring. Kevin felt it was unlikely. Cas trusted Kevin’s call, but he asked his people and Kevin to set up a conference call with Huntsville, as a kind of redundancy. They agreed and started organizing the call.

And then Cas headed out of the room to take a much needed coffee break. He’d agreed to talk to Dean. The words fluttered in his chest. What had he been thinking? He’d gone against his instincts and said he’d talk with Dean. With Dean. The butterflies hit a fevered pitch as the reality sank in.

Dean had called him ‘angel,’ something Cas had only heard from Dean, whispered against his skin, in their most intimate moments. But today, Dean had been groggy and sleepy. He might not even remember asking to talk to Cas. What then? Now that he’d decided, he couldn’t bring himself to take it back.

Meg was right, Cas couldn’t keep trying to protect his heart when all he really wanted was a shot at a relationship with Dean. He had to tell Dean what he wanted and let Dean decide whether he wanted to accept or reject the idea of them together long term. If they couldn’t find some common ground, then it would hurt, but he’d have closure. And closure was better than dwelling in the middle space of wanting and not knowing. They’d be working together until Jody Mills returned. If they wouldn’t be boyfriends, at least they could set some professional boundaries.

 

***

Sam continued to test Dean, but all his tests were coming up fine. Astronauts are checked carefully for brain and inner ear problems, and, on top of that, Dean was a test pilot. He’d certainly put his brain and inner ears through the ringer in his career, and he’d had only ever reported minor, expected issues, as well as demonstrating a strong ability to fight through any adverse effects. In this case, it seemed a bump on the head combined with a fierce sense of vertigo told his brain to sleep it off. He was intermittently awake and asleep because his body wanted him to be. Frustrating, but not entirely unexpected. And better than puking in his suit.

When Cas read Sam and Medical’s initial report, he agreed with Sam that Dean needed a day of observation. He also had to admit to himself that he was glad to be a couple hundred miles away when Dean found out he was hanging around with Sam all day instead of getting back to work like he surely wanted to. 

Meanwhile, back on the ISS … 

“C’mon Sammy, I got things to do,” Dean didn’t whine, he didn’t! But this was ridiculous. He’d hit his head, got a little dizzy and conked out. No big deal. It could happen to anyone.

In theory, Sam agreed that it was no big deal. But the reality was that an ISS astronaut had, however briefly or intermittently, lost consciousness, and Sam’s primary job was to protect the astronauts under his care. “Dean, I hear you, but we’re up here in orbit with nothing but the people on this station to help, and I’m not going to play with a head injury, no matter how minor you, or I, or anyone else thinks it is. If I need help, help isn’t coming. So just settle in and read a book or something and let me do my job!” 

Dean harrumphed, crossing his arms over his chest, still strapped into the med bed. “Sammy, please.”

“Dude, just take a day off, ok? What is so important that you can’t chill out and let me record several hours of solid biometrics to send back to MC to assure everyone, everywhere, that you are fine. Like, cut me some slack and do this.”

“I can’t,” Dean muttered picking at the velcro strap holding him against the bed.

It was Sam’s turn to huff in frustration, “why the hell not? Are you embarrassed? Because I can assure you that no one thinks less of you. We’re still badass astronauts.”

“Of course I’m embarrassed,” Dean chuckled without mirth, “ we’re badass astronauts who gave up the luxury of embarrassment when we decided to come up to this floating fishbowl.”

Sam just glared at his brother, a frown wrinkling his forehead. Dean threw his head back against the pillow and stared straight above him, not looking at Sam. “It’s Cas, ok. I just want to talk to Cas. …Alone.”

Sam scrubbed his hand over his eyes, “ok, man. I get it. I really do. You were quite clear about wanting to meet up with him. But since everyone is watching us right now, you’re not going to get any privacy today. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Ugh,” Dean groaned and asked Sam to get his tablet. At least he could do look at house listings for after he got on the ground. He knew he could keep crashing at Sam’s place while Sam was still on the ISS on his extended mission, but thinking about the potential for a relationship of his own, and settling down and adulting, had him serious about finally getting his own place. Time to start living for more than the next flight.

He brought up a realty app Billie had recommended and started looking for two or three-bedroom places near the beach.

After a few hours of searching through housing listings and virtual tours, he found four listings, on Crystal Beach and in Beach City, that he decided to send to his and Sam’s best friend, Benny. He had been close to Benny and his wife Andrea since he and Benny were both flying test over the Arizona and Nevada deserts. Benny was stationed at Lackland now, and he and Andrea were living in San Antonio. Andrea was a realtor in San Antonio, and Dean trusted her to know what houses were worth, what to consider about location and resalability, and how to get paperwork and sellers moving along. Benny he trusted to make sure the place was right for Dean - a big, workable kitchen, a nice deck for cooking out, a decent bathtub for two, a garage to park his Baby, space for a small garden - all of the things he and Benny had talked about when Benny got serious about Andrea.

Dean brought up Benny in an online chat, and the two caught up. Andrea was pregnant with their first, which was awesome news. Dean’s smile broke wide across his face, as his fingers sped over the tablet hard and fast enough for Sam to look up and wonder what the deal was. “Benny and Andrea are preggo!” Dean said, giddy with the news.

“That’s great news, Dean! How’s it going with the baby?” Sam’s smile was bright and true.

“Benny says it’s all good!” Dean paused, then began again with, “he and Drea are going to help me find a house on the water.” He looked up shyly at his brother.

Sam’s smile softened, “you know you can live with me as long as you want to, I’m always glad to have you around.”

Dean bit his thumbnail and then fidgeted with one of the sensor wires attached to his chest, “I know man, and trust me, your game room is great, and I love your pool. But I’m feeling like it’s time for a permanent home. I’ve been saving all my adult life, feels like time to spend some.” He looked up again at Sam.

Sam was still smiling but his expression was tinged with concern, “what about Cas?”

Dean snorted, “what about Cas?” he asked as he straightened his shoulders.

Sam could always see through Dean’s bravado to his insecurities, and this time was nothing new to him, “don’t you want to talk to him about living arrangements first,” he asked.

“Um, I haven’t even taken him for coffee,” Dean’s voice was a little chippy, “I’m not asking him to move in with me yet.”

Sam breathed out and lowered his voice, gentle but strong, “right, Dean, I know, but we’re not like other people. We’ve spent our lives wandering, and when we’re ready to settle down, we’re ready. Full speed ahead.” Sam took out the tie holding it in a manbun, pulled his long hair through his fingers, and then put it back up again in the hair tie.

Dean caught the gesture and read it for what it was, stalling. He asked, tone brushed with both teasing and suspicion, “is this about Eileen?”

 

“No,” Sam hesitated, and then, “… yes.”

Dean laughed, fully teasing now, “is that woman still making you weak in the knees, and then you babble, flap your arms, panic, and then flee?” His green eyes glittered with mirth.

Sam looked pained, “No …yes.”

Dean smiled widely, “It’s ‘cause she’s so hot, isn’t it?”

“No ...yes. No! I respect her as a professional and a peer!” Sam spluttered and wrung his hands.

Oh yeah, because she’s a peer, Dean thought, and not because of her bright, sunny smile and her tight, petite body. Dean knew his brother was a good and respectful guy, but that Eileen was the whole package of smart, talented and attractive. “O-KAY. A peer, then. Wait.” Dean smelled something fishy, “… what did you do, Sam?”

“Nothing!” Sam waved his hands, which wasn’t suspicious at all. 

Dean nodded sagely, “sure, nothing, because she’s not hot, and anyway, you’re a professional.”

“FIne, okay. She’s hot. Fine. But I like her, Dean! It’s not like learning American Sign Language won’t be useful for me in the rest of my career!”

Aha! There is was. Dean chuckled. He tried to hold it in, but then the laughter started bubbling out and he coughed again. Sam passed him the water pouch.

“Let me get this straight, you’ve been learning ASL for this girl, but it’s not because she’s hot, and it’s totally because she’s a peer.”

Sam bit his lip and nodded. “I just talked to her, and, um, I liked talking to her, so we’re gonna keep talking.” Sam squirmed, which was pretty damned amusing for a grown-assed moose.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. This was great, Sammy had a girlfriend. Then a shadow crossed his face at a thought occurred to him, then slapped his forehead, tugging wires, “please tell me my trainwreck attempt to get together with Cas didn’t inspire you to get over yourself and go get that doctor girl.”

Sam rubbed his nose and sniffed, “oK, I won’t tell you that...”

“Gah! Bitch.” Dean mock-glared at his brother.

Sam laughed, “shove over, Jerk, and show me these potential houses.”

***


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg and Cas talk, Cas, um, well, Cas works some stuff out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm a couple hours late. I was celebrating a long weekend with palomas and sushi. Hope you like this one. See you on Sunday!

Dean was fine. All the reports on Cas’ desk, from three different authoritative sources, told him that Dean had a mild concussion, and everything that happened after that was unusual, but not unexpected. Which, okay, Cas understood, like everyone at NASA, that the big black empty could be disorienting under the best of circumstances. It could make astronauts vomit on just an average space walk. And Dean had had a bump to the head the interrupt his space walk. Totally understandable reaction. Cas took another deep breath as he shut down his computer. Dean was fine, maybe he needed a little rest, and maybe he’d have a slight headache, but he was fine, and he would stay fine. 

Cas, on the other hand, was exhausted. In his career (and before that at uni), he was no stranger to overnights, 24-hour, and other less-than-ideal shifts. In fact, he ran distances because they helped regulate the insomnia he was inclined to. So, Cas was no stranger to dealing with fatigue, but this, this was something different. This felt like all of his limbs were being dragged down by gravity until his legs could barely carry him across the floor, and his hand could hardly control his empty coffee thermos. He was rubbing his left hand over this face, trying to clear his vision enough to make his way out of the office and back to his room, when Meg rolled up next to him.

“Tough day, huh Cas?” her voice soft and warm like fresh linens. God, he wanted to lie down in a bed with linens fresh from the dryer. He was getting loopy.

He rolled his head left to right and back again to stretch his neck, then he got behind her chair and began to push it toward the doors to the hall. “Long day,” he confirmed. 

“Come with me to brunch, I’ll buy the bloody marys,” she said still speaking softly like he was an animal she might startle. 

He breathed out slowly, sighing, “I want to say ‘I’d love to,’ but it wouldn’t be true. I just want to go back to my room and go to sleep.”

“I know you’re tired, but you have to eat,” she reached down and put her hand on his wrist, “...and maybe you shouldn’t be alone with your feelings right now.” 

Cas chuckled and then the chuckle morphed into a yawn. “I’m fine. He called me ‘angel,’ he wants to talk again. This is good…” his voice trailed off. And he resumed pushing through the doors down the hall toward the elevator.

It was her turn to giggle, “you’re so sleepy! You’re like an adorable snuggly teddy bear in search of a nap!” she made smooshy motions with her hands. 

He pulled her NASA cap further down on her head. “I am not adorable!”

“Totally adorable!” And she broke into giggles again, collapsing her tiny frame into her chair. 

“Stop teasing me, or I’ll stop pushing…” he mock threatened knowing full well that she had rock solid arms and regularly wheeled distances for exercise. 

She laughed, full-throated, throwing her head back as they got onto the elevator. 

After she caught her breath she patted his wrist again, “I’m serious, though. I’m not sure you should be alone with your thoughts. You tend to think your way into trouble.”

He (ironically) thought about that for a minute as he guided her carefully out of the elevator and then walked beside her as she wheeled her way down the corridor toward security.

“Tell me how you think I can run this off the rails if I’m alone. I’m tired, he’s safe, he used a nickname, he wants to talk again, everything is good, and all I want to do is sleep.” He didn’t intend to sound chippy, it just came out that way. 

She stopped her chair in the middle of the corridor and pivoted to face him. He slouched down against the wall so she wasn’t looking quite so far up at him. “I tried to get you to go to brunch to talk, are you sure you want to do this here?”

He scrubbed his hand over his face again and yawned. Yeah, he wasn’t going to make it to brunch anyway. “I’m not going to make it to brunch anyway,” he told her, his voice gruff from use and fatigue. “Please, just tell me.”

“And you’ll be my friend forever?” she asked, her lips quirked in a smirk.

“And I’ll be your friend forever,” he agreed.

Then she sighed, her face awash in seriousness. “Don’t get me wrong here, I love sex, like, love sex. But your brain is super sex-addled. Like critical temperatures, exploding thermostats, sex addled.”

“I’m what?” he asked her, suddenly more alert than he’d been a moment ago.

“Sex-addled,” she confirmed with a nod. “You like him and you want to try a relationship with him, but you’re preoccupied with all the sex you had, and you want to have, and hopefully, you will be having again. Sex. Addled.” 

“I...” he sputtered. “I am not sex-addled. I want to get to know him,” he huffed.

“I”m not saying you don’t,” she said and she pivoted and started wheeling down the corridor again, “I’m just saying you can’t get past the sex that you like so much and want so much and need so so much, and it’s getting in the way of trying to communicate with him. You want him, badly, and it derails your conversations. And you blame him for not being clear, but you’re perfectly clear with the whole lust brain problem.” She pulled her ID on her lanyard visible from where it had been tucked into her cardigan, and waved it to security, who scanned it and passed her through (apparently conversations about lust brains were nothing new to them). Then, she continued toward the main entrance.

Cas waved his ID as well, got scanned, and then followed after her, saying a bit too loudly, “you have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“I don’t?” she asked, her face a picture of innocence. “I told you, I like sex, like, really like sex. Like, have a list of people in my phone for just that purpose. Like, tried to add you to that list the first time we went to brunch, like sex. Some people bowl, some people knit, I have sex. Like, that kinda like sex that I like.” By the time she finished her little tirade, her voice was dripping with smugness.

He grinned despite himself, “O-Kaaay... so you like sex.”

She grinned back, “I do, I like sex, and I have the distinct impression from watching you, listening to you, and watching you watch him, that you like sex, like, really like sex, too.”

They were wheeling and walking through the parking area to her car, and he let the silence drift for a moment while he thought about what he wanted to say.

“Sure. Yes. I do. I’m a … sensual person. I really like sex. But no, I stopped hooking up years ago when it wasn’t moving me toward the relationship that I wanted.” He chewed on his thumbnail. 

“And so now you just run off the extra sexual energy?” She asked as if she didn’t already know the answer. “You’re running instead of fucking.”

He harrumphed, “No, I run because it’s good for me. It helps relieve stress, and I sleep better.” 

They stopped next to her little crossover SUV. “Really?” she asked. “And have you been running more or less since the Skype date with Dean?” She was back to her smug tone.

He sputtered again, “that has nothing to do with sex!” A man two aisles down looked over at them with a horrified expression on his face. “Meg,” Cas stage whispered, “we might be making a scene.”

She raised her voice, “I’ll talk about fucking in the parking lot if it want to! I do what I want!” And then she collapsed into giggles again as the blond man quickly ducked into his car, face red to the roots of his hair.

He couldn’t help it, he laughed too. Meg was a handful, but he loved her.

“Want some help into your car?” he asked, not wanting to assume.

“Nah,” she told him. “Get yourself back to your room. Swing by the canteen and get yourself a snack, but get some sleep.”

He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, “thanks, Meg.”

“It’s nothing,” she replied, voice soft again, “we’re off tomorrow, so text me if you want to talk. I’ve got a date tomorrow evening, but otherwise I’ll be around.”

“Shit,” he sighed. “I’m supposed to be going house-hunting tomorrow. Maybe I should cancel…”

“Oh no you don’t. You said friends forever. You’re mine now, so go find yourself a house and get settled in!”

He laughed again and kissed her on the top of her cap, then he turned and headed off in the direction of the stop where he could get a lift over to housing. He’d call on the way and have some food delivered so it would be at the front desk when he got there.

Then he’d sleep the sleep of the righteous.

 

***

 

When he got back to housing, his Caesar salad was waiting at the front desk. He grabbed it and headed back to his room. Safely behind his locked door, he set his salad on the dresser, then he kicked off his shoes and undressed, dumping all his clothes into the bag in the closet he kept for dirty laundry. He paused for a moment, feeling gritty, deciding between food and shower. He chose shower, and shoved the salad into the fridge. Naked, he walked into the bathroom and started the water running. He got under the spray and let it pour over his head for a time. Then he grabbed the natural soap he’d bought on Etsy and held it under the stream. Instead of invigorating him like it usually did, the citrus and sea salt scent cleared enough of the cobwebs to make him realize he really was just too tired to stay awake, even long enough to eat.

He turned up the hot water until the bathroom was thick with steam, and his skin was turning pink. Then he rubbed the soap between his hands, suds spilling through his fingers. He scrubbed the subs in circles across his chest, the slick feeling of the soap sliding over his skin, and the jolt of pleasure through his nipples. He cock twitched in interest. He thought about taking his time and his pleasure, but he really was just that relaxed and sleepy that he didn’t have the energy for an orgasm. He told himself his refusal was the sleepiness and not a stubborn response to Meg’s “sex-addled brain” theory. He wanted Dean, yes, but he was in control of his himself, and his intentions were honorable. He wanted the man again, yes, but he really wanted to get to know him, to cook together in the kitchen, to swim together in the ocean, to go to comic book movies and play pool in dive bars. Not just physical.

Once he was thoroughly clean, he stood a while under the hot stream and finally shut off the water when his fingers began to prune. The rough towel rubbing against his overheated skin sent tingles over his limbs, and goose bumps erupted across his arms and thighs. He wasn’t “sex-addled!” Whatever that even meant. It was just a lot of sensations to feel at once. That’s all. Finally, he slid into bed, not even bothering with boxers. Just warm naked skin and cool, crisp sheets. The scent of citrus in his nose. His head heavy against the soft pillows. He was out in moments.

***

Warm, smooth lips kissed their way up his inner thigh. A lick, a sucking bite, and then Dean pulled his sack into his mouth, and that wet heat killed every thought in his brain. He clutched the damp sheets in his hands and arched his back as Dean sucked and tongued him, first one side, then the other. Dean’s clever fingers stretching and rubbing, thick and slick, and, god … he gasped, throwing his head back.

Shame abandoned him as he writhed and moaned, Dean swallowing him down, fingers thrusting up. He was breathing heavily and letting loose a stream of profanity and sweet nothings, moans, and begging. So much begging. And not the least self conscious about any of it. He gasped … Dean. 

Dean, with his clever tongue, his clever fingers, his clever ability to find every sensitive spot on Cas’ body, redefining erogenous, and easily the best lover Cas had ever had. Dean, with his clever hands and his clever strength, slid up Cas’ body, then wrapping his arms around his middle, turning him so that he was on his belly. Then Dean’s clever lips began kissing their way up Cas’ spine. Soft kisses; wet kisses; little kitten licks; love bites; sucking bites; hard, toothy nips. It rhymed, Cas thought, drifting high on a cloud of oxytocin and dopamine. Cas’ mind was swamped with sensation, lightheaded in the summer heat, and drowning in want.

Dean bit and sucked and nipped his way along Cas’ muscled back until he was writhing under Dean’s single-focused attention. Dean followed with long, scratching pulls of his fingernails from Cas’ ass to the nape of his neck, and back again. He could feel the skin split as he arched into it, hot and needy. Dean latched onto Cas nape with his teeth and sucked in a bruising kiss that had Cas panting for it. Panting for Dean’s cock. Dean slid in slowly, left arm wrapped around Cas’ neck, right hand wrapped around his cock. They found a rhythm push, pull, thrust, pull, that had Cas’ eyes rolling back into his head. So many sensations. He tried to breath but all he could do was pant, pant Dean’s name, pant profanities, pant nonsense. The sweat trickled down his back, his temples, his elbows and the backs of his knees. The sheets twisted around their legs as they moved in time to their own music. 

One final, perfect thrust and Cas was screaming, pleasure pouring over his senses, drowning him, making him dizzy and floating, and his lungs screaming for air, then one huge gasp ….

and Cas sat bolt upright in bed, sweat pouring over his body, sheets sticky with come, every muscle coursing with pleasure. A fucking dream! He threw himself back down, allowing the oxytocin to work its magic, pouring pleasure through his limbs. The orgasm rippling up his legs, along his fingers, across his chest, the tightening and then release behind his navel. He pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly as the chemicals flowed through his body. And kept flowing as echoes of pleasure reverberated across his neurons, lighting up and singing. He floated on it. Time stretched until his mind cleared enough that he was able to focus on his breathing, slowing it down and evening it out. As the pleasure flowed through him, he smiled to himself. Not the best orgasm he’d ever had - he had a very specific memory of that one - but easily in the top 10. He took a deep breath in and released it. Then another. Slowing his breathing as the buzzing under his skin faded, leaving behind a sated, heaviness to his limbs. When he had come back to himself enough to think about cleaning up, he took another deep breath and then rose slowly, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. Then, he froze. 

Sex-addled. Wtf. Was Meg right? Was it really Cas who was driving them toward sex and away from working out their relationship and their future this whole time? Was it his pure want that was messing everything up? 

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so two things:
> 
> I waffled between the M and the E rating, but I'm still holding with the M because I'm still (I think) walking the line on the mature side rather than the straight up porn side. Adults expressions of their thoughts and feelings include sexual expressions, so I think I'm right here. Let me know if you think I need to bump the rating.
> 
> My original plan for this story was 12 chapters, but it might be just a little more. Let me know if you want more drama and feelings, or if you're ready to see our boys make their way down the home stretch to happily every after.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys do some adulting and then have a much-needed conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only lightly edited, this longer chapter isn't my best work, but I'm using this fic to learn about deadlines, so here you go! Also, you may notice I upped the chapter count to 13. I need to add a little bit more of their happily every after.

Sam’s tablet pinged with an incoming text, “talked to cas. went ok.” He marked it as read and settled in to work on updating his records. Because she was the flight controller for Environmental, and part of Sam’s’ responsibility was to track the effect of living in microgravity with radiation and recycled air, Meg had a lot of contact with Sam. And over time, they had become good friends. But this text message wasn’t about being friends. This was her job.

Of the health issues faced by astronauts, those that are less often talked about are mental health concerns: depression, isolation, loneliness, boredom, a sense of pointlessness. Astronauts see the same things and the same people every day. They work in the same tiny lab spaces, performing the same experiments, and accumulating the same data every day. Small interpersonal drama, when you’re living with the same people in a confined space over six months or more, can turn into full blown conflict if not approached with honesty and good faith. 

In fact, before astronauts live together on the ISS, they spend a month or two confined together at the NASA and NOAA underwater reef lab, Aquarius, where six people are accommodated in a space the size of a large school bus with a small front porch. Just to test their ability to live and work in close proximity. Issues with this close confinement aren’t things you want to uncover after the men and women arrive on the space station, where getting back home isn’t as easy as putting on a wetsuit and going for a swim.

These very real concerns about mental health require close observation, which is one of Sam’s primary responsibilities as the team physician. The controllers and chief are all on alert for potential issues, following protocol to report them to Sam if they observe anything of concern. Of course, Sam had a psychiatrist back on earth he had mandatory weekly sessions with. No one on ISS got out of psych observation.

A couple of weeks ago, Meg had reported to Sam that Dean seemed to be struggling to perform his usual carefree rogue personality. She tied this to the breakup with Cas, saying that Cas had been chilly around MC too. But to Sam, this was more than just an awkward breakup. Dean wasn’t just feeling rejected, he was on the cusp of personal transformation. Not that he wanted anyone to know. But Sam knew his brother, and he fucking paid attention. Dean had been brushing against his future for awhile, but the last year or so, Sam had seen the signs of Dean’s longing for a partner and a family. He’d spent more time admiring families in public spaces, parks, and beaches. He’d stopped hooking up with random people from the bars. And then, they’d come up to ISS. 

The thing about personal transformation is that it requires thinking and working through feelings. And to do that you need personal space. Which is one major thing the ISS lacks. So, instead of contemplating his own potential for change, Dean had been getting watery-eyed after the ISS team skyped into a kindergarten class. And he’d been watching more rom-coms than his usual hidden stash. In fact, Sam had scanned the movie library for ISS, and Dean had even watched those Hallmark channel romances starring David Haydn-Jones in a vineyard or a bakery or a tow-truck or something. 

Not that Sam knew anything about the Hallmark channel. Nope, it was just a professional interest. And in his professional interest, it was time he and Meg stayed out of Dean and Cas’ way and let those two knuckleheads figure things out. Well, maybe one more nudge.

He heard the ping of another incoming message and glanced down. Eileen. Confirming that they were watching Blockers (2018) tonight. It was their second date, and they’d chosen a movie to watch together while on chat. He was looking forward to her dry wit and pretty face. Dean wasn’t going to be the only one to end this mission with a love interest and some future plans.

 

***

Cas arrived at Café Cabana, a cool little coffee shop in Kemah, Texas, early for his late-morning appointment with Mara. He went ahead and ordered fried egg tacos and a large Americano to go. He sat on the patio in the sunny fall weather and breathed in the Gulf breeze. He was wearing torn jeans, a Ramones tee, black high tops, a baseball cap from a local brewery, and Ray Bans over his eyes. Comfy, Saturday house-hunting clothes. Good tacos. Nice morning.

Mara bounced up on time, about twenty minutes later, wearing wedge sandals, a red floral romper, oversized sunglasses, a straw sun hat, and carrying a large straw tote, “Castiel!” she called, waving at him with her free arm, “I was going to buy you coffee!”

Cas smiled back at her and returned her wave with a smaller motion. He felt a bit underdressed and a bit like he had accidentally stumbled into a date. She was pretty with her dark blonde hair and smooth, glossy skin. He legs were long and tan, and her wedge heels had super cute ankle ties. He chuckled to himself, it was a beautiful summer day, and he was with a beautiful woman, but the only thing he saw that he liked was a cute pair of shoes. He was so gone on Winchester. 

She bounced back with a french press and two cups, “Hi, Castiel!” she beamed a wide smile with glossy, peachy lips. She put the press and mugs down and slid into the seat next to him.

“Mara,” he smiled back at her, “thank you for helping me with this.” 

She giggled and touched his wrist, “oh, I’m happy to do it. You NASA boys are always such good customers.” 

He tilted his head to one side and gave her an avuncular smile, “it’s great that you’ve got your own successful business at your age.”

She giggled and patted his wrist again, “you’re not much older than I am, sweetie.”

He slid his arm back across the table, and then he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m old enough to want to settle down in my own place, where I can invite my boyfriend over for bbq on the porch and take him for walks on the beach.” Her smile fell a little but he used the break to obviously check the time on his phone. “Did you find me anything like that?” he looked down, “cute shoes, by the way.”

She sipped her coffee to cover her expression, “so, you’re saying I shouldn’t bother flirting with you any more?” her lips quirked in a wry smile.

He nodded his head, “not that you’re not lovely, but he’s holds all of my attention.”

She put both her hands up in acquiescence, “can’t blame a girl for knowing what she wants.”

“No, I can’t,” he agreed smiling at the younger woman with a touch of pride. Confidence is a good look on anyone.

“Well, now that I know that you’re looking for a place to entertain your boyfriend, this will be easy.” She pulled a folder out of her bag and placed it on the table in front of him, “I’ve got six listings I think you’d like, but the best one for what I think you’re looking for is a beachfront, two-bedroom just a couple of miles from here.” She opened the folder and pulled out a printout of a lovely little townhouse. “It’s perfect right?”

He flipped through the two color printed pages. He liked the pale blue-gray paint and ceramic tile in a white-washed wood design. He liked all the windows and the bamboo blade ceiling fans. It was perfect. He grinned up at her, “It looks great! Can we see it?”

“Let’s go!” And she repacked her bag, hopped up, grabbed his hand and pulled him up after her, then giggled as she dragged him off toward her car. Laughing, he allowed himself to be pulled along in her wake.

Two hours later, he’d toured the perfect little townhouse, signed a lease, and was in his car headed the fifteen minutes back to Johnson. He was looking forward to getting on the phone and scheduling packers and movers. And then getting some more sleep.

 

***

Dean wanted to try again with Cas. His early evening was free having the half day off. It’d be a nice evening for a chat. But first, he made a long call to Benny and Andrea. Andrea said she said she’d found some great listings on the internet, and she and Benny were going to drive down out to Houston on Sunday and take a look at houses for a couple of days. Dean told them he was grateful and didn’t really expect them to find something so quickly. Andrea said his budget, and his willingness to put down about 30%, would make it easy to find the perfect place.

“You gonna have a guest room for us, brother?” Benny’s slow drawl was teasing and warm.

Dean winked at Andrea, “looks like I’m gonna need guest room and a nursery for y’all.”

She grinned at the roguish astronaut, godfather to her unborn child, and said, “as long as you do the cooking, we’ll visit you as much as you want.”

“Soooooo,” he asked, voice leading, “you got any favorites on your list, Drea?” Dean nervously scratched at his wrist.

“Well, you’ve seen the listings I sent you, but Ben and I,” she bumped Benny’s shoulder with her own, “really like the Mission-style four-bedroom with the rooftop deck in Seabrook. It’s a very short walk to the beach, and you can see the Gulf from your rooftop. We think it will be perfect for family and holiday parties, and it’s got enough bedrooms you can have an office and a couple of kiddos.” She giggled as his face flushed.

Benny laughed, “you’re looking a little pink there, brother. I thought this was the love and marriage house we were buying. You getting a little shy on us?”

Dean wrinkled his nose and the blush spread high across his cheekbones. “It is! I just don’t even have a boyfriend yet, and now you’ve got me wondering how many bedrooms I need for kids!”

Drea collapsed into giggles, “Benny! Benny!” she chortled, “stop teasing him! You’re going to break him before he even signs the mortgage!” 

Dean cleared his throat and smiled broadly, “you’re not gonna break me. But I’m going to remember this,” he pointed his index finger at Benny and then again at Drea,” when I need help decorating.” They all laughed together again, at Dean’s heart filled with love for his family.

They shared more stories of the pregnancy, their families, and new recipes to try. Benny agreed to send Dean the recipe for the cajun baked chicken with creamy rice thing he’d invented. 

And then, Dean begged off because he had another call to make, “Sorry guys, it’s been great, but I really need to get working on the boyfriend, if I’m ever going to fill this house we’re talking about.”

They signed off with promises to see each other as soon as Dean was out of the hospital after landing.

 

***

Cas scheduled the packers, movers, and his teenage house sitter to let them in. By the end of his phone calls, he had everything locked down and organized exactly as he liked them to be. Better news, he would be moved into his new place next weekend. The movers were even going to tow his car down here, so he could finally break up with Lyft. 

His phone pinged with a message from Dean asking if he would be available in an hour to talk. Butterflies filled his ribs. He’d spent the last two days thinking about what he’d want to say to Dean. Where he’d start. How he’d frame it. He felt better now that he had a place to live and his own sense of permanence. He felt grounded. He was here, he was staying here, he was going to try to build a future with Dean. The butterflies eased and his breathing evened out. He was going to do this.

Cas texted back that he’d be ready. Then, he ordered some gyros and lemon-feta fries and jumped in the shower to rinse off the day and further clear his head. 

He’d eaten and cleaned up and was dressed in running shorts and a tee shirt when he heard the chime of Dean’s call coming through. He settled down at the desk instead of the bed - best to take all precautions to keep this thing from skidding off the rails - and connected the call: 

“Hello, Dean.”

 

***

“Mother, don’t rush me! It’s just going to take me a minute to put on clean pajamas!” Donna complained loudly as she propped her overbalanced, pregnant frame, against the dresser.

“You’re having a baby, Donna! We need to call an ambulance, and you need to lie down on the couch and wait for them!” Senator Naomi Hanscum stamped one of her perfectly sensible pumps on the wood floor. “Now, Donna!”

“Mom,” Jody began, “there’s plenty of time for us to drive her. Now let’s just take her bag to the car, her OB has been called and is meeting us there...” Jody stopped short when Naomi whirled on her, shouting: 

“My grandchild will not be born in an ELECTRIC CAR on the way to the hospital!”

Jody threw her hands up in the air and shot back, “what’s wrong with my car!?”

“That silly little hybrid is not big enough for the three of us and an appropriate baby car seat! As I’ve already said, I’ve ordered you an appropriate-sized, very safe, non-battery-operated CUV, and the safest possible car seat and, even if it were here already, it still would not be an appropriate birth place for my grandchild!” Naomi’s eyes flashed in threat.

“Mom,” Jody said in exasperation, “we told you we didn’t want a new car. Our car is fine…”

“It isn’t! And I’ll demonstrate how it is too small when we try to put my and Donna’s bags into that pizza box you call a trunk!” Naomi’s jaw was set and her eyes were still stormy.

“Your bags!? You’re not staying at the hospital in her room with her, Naomi. I’m her wife! I will stay with her while she has our baby!”

“She is my daughter, I gave birth to her, and I will be with her when she has her first child! I am a United States Senator, and the hospital will accommodate my daughter as is appropriate for my standing!” Jody and Naomi were inches from each other, faces red, hands on hips… Donna thought they looked about 30 seconds from hair pulling. This was enough.

“Wife!” Donna shouted, then, “Mother!” Jody and Naomi froze. Then Donna pointed to her very pregnant belly and bit out, “I am having the baby. Therefore, I decide what we’re doing. Mother, you are going to take your one bag, put it in the car and get into the backseat where you will sit quietly! Wife, you will get my bag, put it in the car, and then come back here to help me out. While you two are doing that, I will change into clean pajamas, and then we will all go to the hospital together, is that clear?”

Jody and Naomi stood in silence, staring at Donna. Frozen in place, not even blinking. This was getting ridiculous, Donna thought as she clapped her hands together, shouting, “Is. That. Clear!?”

That got Jody and Naomi moving. They were still bickering quietly between them though as they headed out to the car with the bags. Donna looked down, not able to see her feet, and not really wanting to ask for help from her wife at this point. Maybe a fresh nightgown was in order.

 

***

“Hey Cas,” Dean whispered searching his handsome face and settling on his deep, blue eyes. Dean had seen some pretty blues in his day, especially from his perspective in orbit, and this was the most beautiful blue he’d ever seen. “How you doing today?”

Cas smiled back at Dean, studying the meadow green eyes and the sprinkling of freckles across his nose, “I’m well, Dean, how are you?”

Dean chuckled and looked down at his hands, “is this awkward for you? Because it feels awkward for me.”

“It’s not awkward, but I do need to have a serious conversation with you, and that is making me feel very nervous.” Cas answered, eyes on his own hands.

“Serious, Cas? That doesn’t sound good.” Dean’s face fell and he took a deep breath, “look, I know I’ve been coming on strong, and I understand if you want me to back off…”

Cas interrupted, “no, wait. Don’t. That’s not what I meant. I meant, I’m the one who has been messing up, and I need to take a step back and explain myself,” he looked directly at Dean with his full lips set in a determined line. Dean wanted to kiss them more than anything.

“What does that mean, Cas?” Dean asked, stomach still knotted in fear and regret, “because you’ve been great and I’ve been…”

“Dean,” Cas raised his hands to slow him down, “Dean, it just means that I’ve had an epiphany about why we keep getting our wires crossed when we both seem to be interested, and I want to explain my part in this, and I want to apologize. Will you let me explain?”

 

Dean stared at Cas, studying his face for any hardness or sense that this was over, and instead, all he found was softness -- soft eyes and a soft smile. “Uh, sure, I can do that I guess.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

They stared some more until Dean lifted one shoulder in a shrugging invitation, and Cas chuckled in response. “We’re in the cupola, Cas, we can talk about anything, we’re alone, floating below the entire world.”

Cas’ smile split wide and his eyes crinkled, “that’s the best invitation I’m going to get, so, um … here we go. When we met ten years ago, we had instant chemistry, right?”

Dean chuckled to himself, “so chemistry. Much hot.”

Cas laughed too, “yes, we were electric. And when we talked that first night, making our desires clear, I told you that I really liked sex. And you told me, do you remember what you told me?”

Dean threw a cocky smile, “I told you I wanted to show you just how much I liked sex too.”

Cas chuckled again, “well, that’s the gist, I think the phrasing was closer to you wanted to ‘fuck me like it was your full time job’.”

“I didn’t say that!” 

Cas burst into full laughter at the light in Dean’s eyes, “You did!” They laughed together, watching each other, pleased and happy. Dean wiped his eyes and ran his hands through his hair, fluffing it out, and sending it standing up straight in all directions. “So, ok, we’re both sex monsters, so?”

Cas admired the sexy beast on his screen, grateful that they were forced to have this conversation apart, with no way to physically get together, or he might not be able to finish it without jumping Dean. Something to be remembered for the future when they were fighting.

“That’s exactly it. That’s the point. We’re both highly sexual people. We both enjoy frequent sex, and if you take our weekend together as any semblence of compatibility, then we share a high sex drive too.” Cas spread his hands wide in offer, waiting for Dean to respond.

“Ok,” Dean agreed, “I can’t believe we’re talking about this like adults. Like doing the adulting thing.”

 

“Want to talk about how much adulting I’m doing?” Cas replied with a smile of pride across his face, “I signed a lease on a townhouse here today. I’ll be moving out of base housing and into my new place this coming week.”

“That’s awesome!” Dean smiled widely, “congrats! Setting down roots is a big deal, wait … so does that mean you’re staying in Houston?” The smile shifted to a more nervous expression and Dean fidgeted with his hands.

“Oh, I guess we never talked about it. With Jody’s emergency leave and then family leave, I’ll be at her post for about a year. And after, Director Singer has offered to find me a place here to stay on permanently if I want … ” Cas’ excitement faded as he shared his news, slowing from bright enthusiasm to dawning realization that he’d never discussed any of this with Dean. He ended with the quiet and anxious question, “if that’s ok with you?”

Dean just stared, Cas was staying? “You’re staying!?” Dean asked, the excitement bright in his voice and on his face.

Cas nodded vigorously, and they lost themselves to staring again. Cas scrubbed at his face with both hands, they were ridiculous. He had to get this back on track.

“Yes, I’m staying …” he began.

As Dean interrupted, exclaiming, “I’m buying a house next week!” and bouncing in his seat.

God he was cute, Cas chuckled and then Dean was chuckling too. Dean hauled himself back, “we haven’t let you get very far in your explaining your epiphany, but I’m starting to get the picture. You’re saying we leap with both feet, right? We see each other, and we throw ourselves into the nearest bed. We talk, we get three words out, and then we’re straight to sex.” He looked stunned as the words fell out of his mouth. So cute.

Cas nodded again, “yes. I met you, and I wanted you. We fucked. You were insatiable and that just pushed me further into our fire. It’s who we both are. Driven by lust and pleasure. Surprisingly compatible, if you think about it.”

Dean thought he would be self conscious, but he wasn’t. Maybe if Cas wanted him less than he wanted Cas. Or maybe if Cas thought his interest in sex was excessive. But Cas had been right there with him. “You were right there with me the whole time,” Dean said, wonder in his voice.

“I was, and I am. Let me ask you something. It’s a hard question, but please try to be honest with me; it’s important,” Cas took a deep breath and then ran his hands through his own hair, while Dean tracked his adam’s apple with his eyes. “Have you been thinking lately about settling down. Maybe live in one place, have a partner, maybe someday a family.”

Shit. That was a hard question. Dean swallowed and then turned his face up to the earth above him, the reflective light of the sun on the earth lit his face. He sighed. Cas waited, trying to keep his anxiety in check. Just waited while Dean thought. 

Finally, Dean turned his face back to the screen, and his eyes were suspiciously damp. “Yeah,” he said quietly. ‘Yeah, last year or two, I’ve been thinking about a life beyond my career. A partner. My own home. Maybe kids someday?”

“Maybe kids?” Cas asked softly, wishing he could touch Dean. Wishing there was a way to soothe the vulnerable man.

Then Dean shook it off. He scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand, sat up straighter, and looked right into the camera lens, “two little girls, less than two years apart in age, named Kelly and Kari.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest and set his jaw, daring Cas to say anything. 

Cas’ heart swelled. He looked down as his lips quirked. He tried to hold back the smile, but he could feel it spreading - lighting up his face, “they’ll both have your green eyes and ginger hair,” he nodded.

Dean’s look of determination transmuted to one of mischief, “we’ll have to get a lock on our bedroom door.”

And they both laughed together, eyes crinkling and faces alight. 

When they finally settled down, Dean took a deep breath, and said, “I guess we have a lot to talk about. … Why don’t you start over from the beginning. Start at the sex monsters thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first, I wanted the boys to have a very blunt and kind of smutty discussion, but then I decided that they really wouldn't do it that way. And I really wanted it to be cute and kind of all over the place. Just know that these two will really need to use their words since they'd rather use their bodies for everything. #adulting #notallsexandroses


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to go on the ride of their lives. It's time to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only lightly edited because I didn't want to miss my Wednesday deadline. So sorry :p

Jody drove the twenty minutes to Texas Medical Center, gritting her teeth as Donna held her hand and had a quiet conversation with her pregnant belly, while Naomi sat seething from the backseat. It was incredibly stressful, which was also kind of amusing, since Jody Mills had one of the more stressful jobs in the world. She should be used to this. But nope.

The most stressful part was that Donna’s placenta previa had largely sorted itself out as the placenta moved higher through her third trimester. It was currently marginal, meaning very close to the cervix, but not covering it. Her OB had reluctantly agreed to try natural childbirth so long as Donna delivered in an OR in the case that an emergency C-section was needed. Donna was “pleased as punch,” and Jody was not happy. But she couldn’t argue with her wife because Naomi, her mother-in-law, was absolutely dead set against this plan. 

Naomi had been making calls to their OB, calls to the hospital, calls to other OBs to call theirs and basically just Senator-ing all over the place. It was maddening, especially since Jody wanted to protest this whole plan too! Sure, the risks were minimal with their current arrangement, but still! Add to this that Donna was in very light labor, and her child was on its way, they were fighting about pajamas just ten minutes ago, and the whole thing just seemed bananas. Surreal bananas. 

Jody made the turn into the hospital complex and followed the signs through to the physicians parking that took her into a secure parking garage and up to the VIP entrance doors. They were met at the car with a wheelchair, and a parking attendant helped them out of the car, and then drove it to a designated parking space. Together, Jody, Naomi, Donna, the wheelchair attendant, and the OB admitting nurse with her high-tech tablet and software, entered the hospital, and made their way up the elevator to the Sawyer Memorial VIP suites. Once settled in, Donna, her wife, and her mother would spend the next 12 to 18 hours waiting for her labor to progress in the luxurious spa-like surroundings of their three-room suite. 

While it took about an hour to get Donna admitted and tucked into bed, for once, Jody was glad for her mother-in-law’s influence, because in this suite, Donna would be comfortable, and Naomi could sleep in the next room. And given the high-risk nature of the pregnancy, Donna and the baby would be within moments of top-rated medical care. Jody was a working class girl, merit scholarships and student loans all the way through. On principle, she was suspicious of wealth and influence. 

When they met, Donna was living in a clean but tiny one-bedroom and working as a librarian. Jody had no idea until the third month they were dating, that Donna was a trust fund baby and her mother was a United States Senator. Oh, the joys of ignorance. But this time, this one time, Jody would make an exception and let her MIL’s power and money make things very safe and very secure for her wife and child.

“You ok?” Jody asked, as Donna wiggled into the fancy adjustable bed. 

“MmmHmmm, just peachy!” Donna chirped, although she was a little sweaty and her face was flushed.

Jody brushed the hair off of her wife’s forehead and laid a kiss there. “You don’t have to be strong yet, let your mother and I fuss over you. We’ve got a lot of time yet before the hero stuff.”

Donna patted the baby monitor on her belly and smiled over at her mother. Naomi lifted a cup and asked with absolute sincerity, “ice chips?” 

Donna took one look at her very serious wife and very well-behaviored mother and burst into hysterics. Trying to contain her laughter just set her off more, and she pointed at the baffled faces of her family. She choked out, “you two! You’re getting along!!” And she collapsed again into her laughter. Finally Jody and Naomi laughed too. And the two of them pulled up chairs to wait it out, Jody passing the remote to Donna so she could choose some diverting tv to stream. Three hours later, Jody and Naomi had fallen asleep, and Donna was on her own with season one of SEAL Team where that cutie Clay gets that cutie grad student girlfriend, Stella. 

Donna felt the blood on her thighs a few moments before it was visible on the sheet covering her. She realized right away that she must have been bleeding for a little while. Very calmly, she reached over and hit the panic button on her bed. Then she woke up Jody and showed her the bloody fingers. Jody was up on her feet at about the same time the nurse ran in, rousing Naomi as well.

In a rush of bodies, Donna was whisked away to the OR while Jody could only stare at the organized chaos. Naomi stepped up to her side and took her hand saying, “she’s got the best OB in the state, she’s in the best hospital in the state, and she’s the strongest person I know.” Jody squeezed her MIL’s hand and then guided her back into her chair to wait for the nurse to come back and give them an update.

 

*** 

“Goood Morning, Mission Control! This is Captain Dean Winchester coming to you from the Good Ship ISS, how are all y’all this fine morning?”

Cas smiled into his monitor, “good morning, ISS, you’re coming in five-by. All is well here, we’ve got bagels in the break room, so it’s an extra fine morning.” Then Cas winked at the boyish man on his screen.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean asked, cheeky smile spread over his face, “what did one boat say to the other boat?”

Cas chuckled and turned a little pink at the overt flirting, “I don’t know, Dean, what did one boat say to the other boat?”

Dean’s smile crinkled his eyes and his shoulders shuddered with contained laughter, “Are you up for a little row-mance?” 

Dean and Cas grinned goofily at each other until the other astronauts joined Dean, waving and calling their greetings.

“Good morning, ISS, I have a couple of quick announcements for your before I put you into your morning meeting. First, we are t-minus five days until crew rotation and t-minus fourteen days before the new cosmonauts arrive. We are on final simulations and preparations.” Cas pushed his (in Dean’s opinion, super sexy) glasses back up his nose and checked something off on his tablet.

The astronauts all nodded their agreement, “t-minus five days until home, affirmative MC,” Dean replied verifying data on his own tablet.

“As of the present plan, Dean, Pam, and Billie will return to Earth on the currently docked SoyuzMS craft, call sign Soyuz One. ISS will be without a return craft until the cosmonauts arrive in the next Soyuz. Additionally, the arriving Soyuz will be carrying water and food supplies, followed by a Progress resupply craft ten days after. Confirm?” Cas looked up from his tablet to the screen and the waiting faces of his astronauts.

“Confirm MC, we have completed all the individual systems checks for the return. We will begin performing group simulations today,” Sam spoke with confidence, nodding her head. Sam would be the ISS commander for the next six months of the mission.

“Sam, Mick, Kevin, confirm that initial resupply requests are due the day after the crew departure.” Cas tapped an item on his tablet and looked back to his screen.

“Confirm MC, requisitions to you the first day we’ve got some breathing room,” Sam snickered.

Laughter rippled across Mission Control. Cas and Sam grinned at each other while Dean rolled his eyes. Mick and Kevin snickered.

“And I’ve got more good news,” Cas smiled at the screen and lifted a cute little teddy bear with a red, white, and blue ribbon around its neck, saying “Jody Mills and Donna Hanscum are the proud mothers of a healthy 6.1 pound baby girl. Our new NASA baby was born just after 1am yesterday. She has ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes. He name is Stella-Mae Naomi Hanscum-Mills. After an emergency c-section, mother and daughter are in excellent health. They will be in the hospital for at least four more days, after which, we will try to patch them into a morning meeting so they can say hello.” Cas’ grin grew impossibly wider as the entire ISS and Mission Control teams burst into cheers, hugging and clapping each other on the back.

“All right,” Cas called, making his teddy bear gesticulate along with his words, “we’re going to be busy around the clock until we get our crew home, so let’s get back to work, yeah?”

The MC and ISS teams quickly broke down into their morning meeting as Cas snugged the little bear into a little spot on his desk behind his coffee tumbler.

***

With little time for full conversations over the next few days as Dean and Cas both knuckled down into their own work, and then collapsed into their separate beds at the ends of their workdays, the space boyfriends didn’t have the time or energy for full length conversations at night. Instead, they sent each other text messages when they had a few moments between all their projects and protocol reading (so much reading!). 

Dean: I had a dream about you last night.  
Cas: a SEX dream?!  
Dean: No, Horny Pants, we were just gardening  
Cas: Gardening what?  
Dean: Carrots. Big, huge carrots.  
Cas: ah yes, Mr Phallic Gardener, and I’m the horny one

 

***

Cas: Meg and I are doing brunch  
Dean: Bloody Marys aren’t food, Cas  
Cas: *selfie of Meg and Cas holding up Bloody Marys festooned with olives, cheese cubes, bacon, shrimp, and celery*  
Dean: carry on

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/158018569@N04/48237987981/in/dateposted-public/)

***

Cas: I bought all new bedding - sheets, duvet cover, pillows, the works  
Dean: ok  
Cas: I just thought you should know  
Dean: don’t think I’ll really be closely inspecting the sheets, Cas…  
Cas: Just wanted to show I’m making an effort  
Dean: at seducing me?  
Cas: At adulting! We were talking about adulting not 2 hours ago!  
Dean: can we talk about seducing me???

***

Dean: I’ll be home tomorrow  
Cas: It’ll be two more days before you get to Johnson :(  
Dean: will you be there when they bring me in?  
Cas: I’ll meet the plane xx

 

***  
They were an hour from launching the Soyuz One to return Dean, Pam and Billie to Earth. Mission Control was organized chaos. The controllers were each on comms with their astronauts with individual responsibilities, going over last minute instructions and checks. In some ways, returning to the surface was routine, the Russian-designed Soyuz spacecraft had been in use in one version or another since the 1960s. The process was well known and had been completed countless times since the ISS manned mission in 2000, and the systems and procedures were continually verified and updated. It’s really all just math, and it’s completely routine. 

Except, there is nothing routine about sending three souls back to Earth in a capsule the size of a small SUV. 

“ISS, this is Mission Control Chief, you are t-minus 45 minutes from launch.”

Sam looked around and nodded at the rest of the crew, “confirm, MC, this is ISS, t-minus 45.”

“All right spacers,” Dean called out, checking his tablet one more time. “We have less than an hour to get this row boat off the dock, how we doin’?”

Sam, Kevin, Billie, Pam, and Mick all looked over their tablets, with Pam, Billie, and Dean double-checking the paper manuals and small personal packs they were carrying with them. “Don’t think we’re going to get any more prepared to hold down the fort,” Mick replied, “looks like it’s time for hugs and selfies.”

The team took turns taking selfies and group shots together, exchanging hugs, and even a few tears. They made their way as a group to the Soyuz docked at the bottom of the ISS, the one that had brought up Kevin and Mick. 

Billie crawled into the capsule first, fitting and adjusting her restraint system, then Sam passed in Billie’s personal pack to be carried on her lap, as well as the thick stack of papers bound together that were one of the procedural handbooks required to be carried in the capsule in case of emergency. “You tucked in nice and cozy, Billy?” Sam asked as he leaned into the hatch looking her over closely.

“Good to go, Sam,” she shot back giving him two thumbs up.

Next, Pam crawled into the seat beside Billie, the center seat, and connected her restraints. Sam passed in her small bag and her procedural handbook. “You both snugged in there? Remember you need to keep those adjustment straps in reach, so you can tighten them again when gravity gets ahold of you.”

“Yes, Sam,” they both agreed, wiggling and shifting back and forth to make sure that they were firmly and fully seated. “All ready for the bumpy ride,” Billie smiled as Pam gave her thumbs up.

Outside the capsule, Sam pulled Dean into a tight hug. “You stay safe without me, Sammy,” Dean told his little brother.

“Gonna miss you,” Sam replied with a little snuffle. 

“You’re gonna be on the ground with me in another six months. I’m already planning the BBQ,” Dean responded snugging his head against Sam’s. The boys thumped each other on the back, and Dean exchanged fistbumps with Kevin and Mick, and then he ducked into the cramped little capsule to take the command seat.

Dean repeated the process of connecting the restraints and wiggling deeper into his seat. Then Sam passed in his small bag and his manual. 

The crew waved and called out one last round of goodbyes. Then, with a last look at his brother, Dean sealed the interior hatch.

“MC,” Sam said into his microphone, “this is ISS confirming interior hatch sealed.”

Cas responded, “thank you ISS, we confirm interior hatch sealed. Proceed to seal ISS hatch.”

Sam and Mick tugged on the heavy station seal and manually turned it in place, “good seal?” asked Sam.

“Good seal,” Mick confirmed, checking the indicators.

“Seals confirmed, ISS” came Cas’ cool voice over the comms. “This is Mission Control Chief, we assume control of the launch.”

“Launch control transferred,” Sam spoke into his mike again, “thank you MC.”

“Take good control of our mates, MC,” Mick called out as he slapped the hatch twice for luck.

“We will, ISS,” Cas’ voice cracked just a bit, and then the smooth facade returned with, “this is Mission Control Chief, launch authorized. Repeat, launch authorized. Launch in five - four - three - two - one - execute.” 

The clamps holding the capsule released and the pusher arms engaged, gently pushing the capsule away from the ISS. As the capsule drifted away from the station, Mission Control remotely fired the small guidance engines that brought the capsule into its own orbit track. After four minutes of burn, the engines shut down. 

And then the tricky part - the both routine and nerve wracking guidance into the orbital path to bring the capsule around the Earth and slowly slide it into the atmosphere, cutting like a knife. If the angle and velocity were even slightly off, instead of skimming into the atmosphere on a long arc to the surface, the capsule would instead bounce off the surface of the atmosphere, like a stone, and that would send it out into space. 

“This is Mission Control, verifying we have good burn and have achieved targeted atmosphere entry.”

“Confirm, MC, this is Soyuz One, mark atmosphere entry,” Dean replied to Cas, voice bouncing a bit as the capsule shook as it slipped into its track in the atmosphere. The capsule would circle the Earth in the upper atmosphere for a little more than two hours as it came into position.

“The is MC, Soyuz One, please adjust restraints for gravity.”

“Confirmed, MC, adjustments for gravity,” Dean replied as the gravity pulled them deeper into their seats. 

Dean turned to his colleagues, “well, now that we’re here, what shall we do for the next two hours?”

“I Spy?” asked Pam with a chuckle. 

“Slugbug!” chirped Billie.

“We could be eating diner food and visiting giant balls of string instead of,” Dean gestured around them, “whatever this is. It doesn’t even have a window for the drive-through!”

The continued to chit chat and maintain regular contact and check-ins with Mission Control. Everything was going exactly as the math said it should.

Two hours into their atmospheric entry, the breakaway components separated from the capsule to burn up in the atmosphere, leaving just the manned pod headed toward the surface at 6Gs. The small left and right rotations of the pod kicked in, small movements that kept the pod on the arc to the landing field in Kazakhstan, and added to the roller coaster feel of the ride. Dean and Pam were whooping it up, while Billie groaned, “fucking test pilots! What is wrong with you people!?”

“Best ride in the world!” Pam shouted back. Dean just laughed and whooped again. Then they all lurched in their seats as the heat shields fell away and the first in a series of parachutes deployed, adding to the turbulence and slowing them slightly. 

Over the next 25 minutes as they fell through the atmosphere, a series of parachutes deployed, increasing the drag on the pod, and slowing them down considerably. Hearing how Billie was shaken and nauseated had Dean and Pam toning down their excitement. “We’re almost down, Billie,” Pam told her, unable to really move her hands much to extend them to Pat Billie’s leg. 

“I just want to be home now,” Billie replied through gritted teeth.

“Mouthguards,” Dean told them both, slipping his own between his teeth. The women followed his lead

The final burn cut in, decelerating them fast for their “soft” landing that felt about like slamming into a barricade while in your car and immediately stopping. All their bodies fell against their restraints and their heads were thrown further back into their seats as the hydrolics on the seats engaged to further soften the landing. Billie gasped at the impact. “We’re down,” Dean told them, them over the comms, “Mission Control this is Soyuz One, we are down. Repeat, we are down. Status green.”

“Welcome home, Soyuz One, this is Mission Control,” Cas spoke over the comms,“ hang tight. Search and rescue inbound.”

“Affirmative, MC, we’re not going anywhere,” Dean replied.

***  
The helicopters that had been flying escort with them as they broke lower atmosphere had peeled off and landed adjacent to the pod. Rescue trucks roared across the Kazakhstan Steppe to meet the pod. The rescue crews jumped out. The first crew ran to the pod, while the second began to set up the tent for medical eval and communications.

Five long minutes passed as Dean, Pam and Billie waited for the hatch to be unlocked and opened, while the ladders were attached and stabilized to its sides. “Hello gravity, our old friend,” Billie chuckled as she worked to breathe and relax her lungs as the new air pressure weighed heavily on her chest.

“God, I feel like I weigh 500 pounds,” Pam sighed. “I wonder how long it’s going to take me to be able to fully use my legs again,” she grumped, “I’m getting too old for this.”

“I know you, Witchy,” Dean told her, reaching forward to pat her hand, “you’ll be on the surface two weeks before you’re itching to get back in the air.” 

“Takes one to know one, baby,” Pam laughed back. Then she sighed again, “this feels like it’s taking forever. 

Just then, the hatch opened from the outside, and a burly guy who called himself George dangled from his waist into the pod. “Welcome home! I’m gonna get you out of here right quick, but we’ll go with the center seat first to give us a little more operating room in here.” Then he began helping Pam out of her restraints. “ With the assistance of another burly guy, George hauled Pam up through the hatch, and then the two men carefully passed her down the ladder to the next two rescuers. Those two tucked her ams in close to her sides and strapped her onto a stretcher. 

Once she was secure, two more rescuers took the handles at the bottom and sides of the stretched and passed Pam off one more time to four rescuers who whisked her into the newly set up tent, where Dr Balthazar Smith was there to examine her breathing, blood pressure, blood/ox and various other indicators to determine she’d come through the transition without serious complications. “I’m Balthazar,” he told her, “and we’re just going to put some monitors on your chest, your fingers, and your leg, ok?”

She nodded at him, tired and heavy, “ok.”

George hopped down into the pod and took Billie’s bag and binder and put them on Pam’s vacated seat. Then he began helping her with her restraints. She was incredibly dizzy and disoriented, and she chuckled at herself. “Ma’am?” George asked as he finished with her restraints and slid back to lift her out of her seat.

“Nothing,” she replied, wooziness apparent in her voice, “this must be what Winchester felt like when he cracked his noggin on the side of the space station.”

“Hey!” Dean protested. “I nearly got crushed by a robot arm. That’s storytelling gold! Free drinks in the bar for life, kind of stuff!”

She swallowed hard against her nausea, “keep telling yourself that Winchester. We’ll go down to the bar with our astronaut swagger and see which one of us gets the most free drinks.”

Dean and George chuckled, and then Billie was carefully removed from the pod, strapped to a stretcher, and handed down to the waiting arms of those who would take her to the medical tent. “You ok, captain?” one of them asked her while the other put an oxygen mask over her face, and tucked in the small tank next to her arm. She nodded at him and closed her eyes to breathe in the cool, clean air.

“OK Captain Winchester, we’re gonna’ get you outta’ here now,” George crouched over Dean releasing his restraints.

“I can stand on my own,” Dean suggested, but George cut him off.

“No, sir. Standard medical and safety protocols. We get you out of here, to medical, then copters, and then the plane. We stay with you until we’re sure the effects of surfing the atmosphere have worn off. Then, once you’re back at Johnson and you’re their problem, then you can start talking to them about moving under your own speed.” Dean thought George sounded remarkably like a parent, and he said so.

“Yes, sir,” George snickered, “two toddlers at home and one on the way. So don’t think you can push me around.”

Dean sighed theatrically, “I won’t. And, seriously, I’m pretty sure I can’t stand on my own anyway. It’s only the gravity keeping me oriented between up and down right now.”

Dean was handed down, strapped down, handed off again, and carried into the tent to be set down on a gurney near Billie and Pam who were still undergoing medical checks. Dean reached out and squeezed Pam’s hand. She turned her head and smiled and winked at him.

The next step was getting them out of their suits, and then into warm, comfortable scrubs. Then, they were transferred to wheelchairs with mountain-bike-like tires, and wrapped in warm blankets. Finally, they were wheeled over to a table where they could Skype into Mission Control. 

When the faces of all of Mission Control appeared on the monitor, they knew they were on display on the main screen back in MC. They all waved tiredly, as everyone in Mission Control stood up and cheered their arrival. “Welcome home, Soyuz One!” Cas called, brilliant smile lighting up his face.

“Thank you, MC,” Pam replied. “We are happy to be home.”

“Hey Cas,” Dean called. “Why did I ask you if you were feeling ok?”

“What?” Cas asked, clearly puzzled.

“I said,” Dean replied, “why did I ask if you were feeling ok?”

“Hm. I don’t know, Dean, why did you ask if I were feeling ok?” Cas replied suddenly catching on that this must be another riddle.

“I asked because I think you might be suffering from a lack of vitamin me,” Dean said, winking outrageously. 

The medical tent lit up in cheers, and Mission Control applauded wildly. 

Then Dr Smith wrapped things up, saying he’d continue with the crew and their workups while they were airlifted back to the airport, so they could begin their long journey home to Houston for rehabilitation. 

As the medical and rescue teams and the Mission Control controllers waved goodbye back and forth to each other, Cas had a moment to consider that maybe this thing between him and Dean was bigger than he had thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're winding down now. Love and hugs to y'all. Thanks for your comments and kudos. I love them so much!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting settled in for the long haul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO sorry, dear ones, for the delay in posting this. I had a couple of problems. I sliced into my finger with a fish knife and couldn't type while it healed. And then I just couldn't get this chapter right. I've been fiddling with the tone of it. And finally decided to just post it and throw myself on your mercies.

Dean was tired. He weighed four hundred pounds. With the gravity of earth pulling him down, he wouldn’t say this aloud, but he felt like he was being buried alive. He was hooked up to an IV that was giving him fluids, calcium, b vitamins, zofran, a pain reliever, and some kind of medical magic that was working to kick his body into gear to start making bones and muscles again. But it didn’t matter how he felt, he absolutely needed to talk to Sam. One of the medics traveling with their group hooked him up with a NASA tablet, and he immediately pinged his brother.

“Dean!” Sam’s face lit with joy. “How are you feeling?”

Dean adjusted the cannula resting against his nose, smiling at his brother. “It’s rough. I don’t remember being this fucked up last time. And I feel fucking old and arthritic.”

Sam chuckled, “damn, it’s good to hear your voice, even if you do sound like someone’s grandpa.”

“Hey!” Dean shot back, but he was just too happy. Probably some of the vitamins or something perking him up.

“You gonna stay in clinic the usual week, or are they keeping you longer do you think?”

Dean’s forehead wrinkled a moment, “probably just the usual week. I mean, I’m sick as a dog, but I’m not showing any unexpected or outside the margin side effects, but obviously they’ll run the full battery back at Johnson. And then I’ll know for sure.”

Sam nodded along, Dean’s body had handled his time in space as well as could be expected. He’d been a little worried about Dean’s mood, like he was about everyone’s once they’d been in a space a few months, but Dean was sounding better already. “MC says you’re still about 17 hours out on your flight back to Houston. You climbing the walls yet?”

“Nah. I figure the zofran they’re giving me is gonna kick in, and then the nausea will be better and I’ll conk right out. I’ll tell you what I am excited about though…” Dean glanced past the tablet at someone on the plane. He said “thank you,” to the person and then turned his attention back to Sam.

“If it’s sexy times with Cas, I don’t want to know about it,” Sam wrinkled his nose.

“Well, yeah, I’m looking forward to talking to Cas, but I also can’t wait to get into my very own house for the very first time.” Dean’s eager smile made his freckles dance across his cheeks.

“I’m so happy for you, Dean. It’s gonna be great going between our two houses for movies nights, pool days, bbqs, bringing dates and friends together. I can’t wait.” Sam wrigled in his seat.

“My too, Sam. I just, I dunno, I just want to start a life on the ground, too.” Dean rubbed his hand across his forehead, dragging the IV line across his face.

 

“I’ll bet, man. I really wish you had someone there to help you though. Not being able to drive for almost a month is one thing, you can Lyft that, but getting around in that big house is gonna be hard.” Sam sighed with a little frown on his brow.

Dean nodded, “if I can’t make it up the stairs, I can sleep in the downstairs guest room that Drea set up. The guest room bath is equipped for accessibility, which will be nice for my guests, but helpful for me for now. Besides, climbing up and down the stairs to my bedroom and getting myself moving around the house is good for me.” Then Dean yawned mightily.

Sam chuckled, “looks like the zofran is kicking in, you should get some uninterrupted sleep while you can - clinic is gonna pester you for samples ever few hours.”

Dean yawned again and then smiled at his brother’s face on the screen, “you take care of you, ok? It’s another long six months. I’m keepin’ the bbq warm for you.”

“Got it, Dean. I’ll be fine, but I’ll call you when I’m not. Remember you owe me the good steaks! Goodnight!”

Dean disconnected the call and then settled back into his pillow. The medic picked up the tablet before it slipped from Dean’s grasp, and Dean was out.

***

Dean, Pam, and Billie were flown back to Houston, landing at Ellington Airforce Base. The aircraft that carried the astronauts, Chief Medical Officer Dr Bathazar Smith, and two medics, was met by two air force ambulances and the who’s who of NASA-Houston and Ellington AFB, including Castiel who stood in the line between the Air Force contingent and the NASA administrators. 

The astronauts were still lying on rolling gurneys, but the head and shoulders portion of the gurneys were elevated so they could see their greeters as they were rolled to the ambulances to make the 10-minute drive from Ellington to Johnson. Men and women in uniform saluted the astronauts as they were rolled by. Cas smiled as Everly squeezed his wrist. She’d shown up this morning offering to drive him to the plane, then she dropped him off with the other important people, parked the car, and ducked into the line beside him just as the astronauts were being unloaded. He’d had her into MC a couple of times to observe and was sure she’d be a great controller someday. He appreciated her commitment and enthusiasm in her appearance here today. 

Cas’ heart stuttered as Dean came into view. Lordy, he was skinny. Even though Dean was tucked under blankets and strapped down to the gurney, he could tell the 6’2” man was thin from the lean look of his wrists, neck and shoulders. It made him want to take him home and feed him his favorite burgers and pies until he put some weight on again. 

Cas met Dean’s eyes and smiled, Dean made eye contact and his smile was bright and wide. He was home. His Dean was home, and they could figure this out. Now that they were able to talk face-to-face, Cas was sure they could work out anything.

“That was Dean Winchester!” Everly whispered, checking to see if her excited pitch was overheard by others. 

Cas grinned at her, “yes, that was him.”

She caught his hand again and squeezed, hopping up and down once. “I’m so excited! Are you going to introduce me to him? Please, Castiel!”

“I can probably do better than that. I might arrange for you to meet us for coffee one day.” He grinned at her bright smile.

“You’d do that!? I could have coffee with you and Dean Winchester!? Oh my god!” She put her hands over her mouth.

Cas laughed out loud, charmed by her fangirl behavior. She glared at him, “what!? It’s not like everyone here gets to date a famous astronaut.”

His smile warmed and deepened, “maybe someday you will.” And he winked at her causing her to blush to her roots.

***

This was really the only part Dean disliked about space travel - disorientation, loss of muscle and bone mass, inner ear issues, vision issues, difficulties in balance, standing, and walking. It was a long list. I mean, it was a physical cost he was willing to pay, but a steep cost nonetheless. He’d be hospitalized at the NASA Flight Medicine Clinic of Johnson for a week before he was released and could continue his rehabilitation while living in his own home. Really, there were parts of space travel that were uncomfortable, but that’s just being human, it’s a little hard on the dignity but no big deal. It’s being human in space that’s hard on a body.

The medic who wheeled him off the plane had her face hidden by her cap, but he liked that she slipped him a little closer to the lineup of people who’d come out to greet them. He got a good look at Cas’ face and saw nothing but welcome and happiness there. He raised his hand and gave a brief and small wave that only Cas would notice. Cas’ smile stretched even wider still. This was gonna be great.

They shifted him to the ambulance and he was off to Johnson. He didn’t hate the Clinic there, really. The doctors and scientists were all experts, and all the tests they would run and rehabilitation plan they would design for him would contribute to cutting edge research in space medicine and quality of life in space. Research that was critically important to develop for ongoing space station operations and the planned manned missions to Mars. The only way to make it better is to do it and then to study what happens when you do. At least the next several months of recovery would be important data for NASA and their mission of space exploration and science.

But home was Dean’s ultimate goal. He was so looking forward to settling into his new home. Benny had gotten his few things out of storage and also found him a big comfy leather sectional for his entertainment room. Dean had also ordered a grown up bed, night tables, a standing mirror, and a dresser for his room, plus a coffee table and a couple of floor lamps, all from CB2. And then he ordered a Purple mattress because he’s a tech nerd and those are tech-y mattresses.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/158018569@N04/48293508552/in/dateposted-public/)

He felt like a kid with a credit card; it was fun if a little anxiety-inspiring. He’d been saving since he was 14, first to pay for Sam’s college, but that brilliant little squirt got a bucketload of scholarships and then, for med school, Sam joined the military in Dean’s footsteps. Then, when they both had their room and board covered, there just wasn’t much to spend on. So he saved for that one day when he or Sam might need it.

Spending it now was new and just a little scary. His financial planner just laughed and told him there was no such thing as an unemployed astronaut, and that if he got tired of it, he could write a book or go on a speaking tour or put his name and brand on a pair of sunglasses or something. He said he’d think about it. A book might be cool though. 

He used to not like to think about the time when his astronaut days were over, but now he was putting down roots and thinking of the future, and that was Cas. Like, not all Cas. He’d been longing for more for awhile now. But he’d felt stranded between his past and his future, thinking about and knowing what he wanted, but not knowing how to take the next steps to move forward. But Cas, the handsome bastard, wanted to try with him. So, it was mostly Dean, but it helped that maybe Cas wanted to walk into the future with. Maybe it would work. A solid, heart-stoppingly sexy maybe.

***

Dean was taken to the Clinic, and Cas debated if he should go also. They’d be hours checking Dean over and getting him settled in, and Cas wasn’t family. If he’d been Dean’s husband, the clinic would absolutely make time for Dean and Cas to see each other. But he wasn’t, and he was tired, he’d been on for 24 hours in the process of getting Dean, Pam and Billie home. Just then, one of the medical staff who had been on the plane walked up to him, “are you Chief Novak?”

“I am,” Cas answered, a wrinkle between his eyebrows over who this person was.

“Dean Winchester is asking for you to meet us at the clinic, and your assistant asked me to pass this information on to you while she went to get your car.” This young man was all business, and Cas nodded at him and thanked him politely. The young man saluted and strode off toward the SUV trailing the ambulances. Some days it was hard to remember that he was important here, given his work was so much about the space station and its occupants.

“So, you’re my assistant now?” Cas asked as he slid into the passenger side of the car.

“Well…” Everly began slowly, “I’m actually following Director Singer’s orders to do whatever you need for the next few days while you, and I quote, ‘continue to run himself ragged.’ So, you know, you’re sorta stuck with me, Chief.” She smiled brightly.

Cas huffed, “ok, but …”

“No buts,” she interrupted, “the director said if you had a problem with it you could take it up with him,” she said and she turned on her turn signal and checked both ways for traffic.

He sighed, this was a kind gesture and he needed to learn to take help from others if he was going to try to get Dean and the other astronauts to lean on him and his team for help. “Thank you,” he spoke, voice low, “could you please drive...”

“You to the NASA Flight Medicine Clinic to see Captain Winchester, got it!” and she merged into traffic with that same bright grin on her face. 

He chuckled and settled into the seat. Soon, he would see Dean.

***

Cas peered through the door of Dean’s room at the clinic.

His boyfriend was lying in a bed, wearing scrubs bottoms, with an IV in his arm, and some monitors hooked to his chest. He was still on oxygen. This time, though, his thinness wasn’t so shocking, but he was space-pale, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He still looked completely wonderful. Absolutely perfect.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said quietly, as he entered.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean’s voice was rough. Cas moved into the space to pick up the glass of water on Dean’s bedside table and offered the straw to him.

Dean looked briefly like he was going to object to being babied, but then he took the straw between his lips, staring in wonder that Cas was here as he took a sip.

Cas brushed his fingers down Dean’s cheekbone as he withdrew the water.

“You’re --- ” Dean said, voice soothed by the cool water, as he reached out and grabbed Cas’ hand careful not to tangle Cas in his oxygen monitor on his finger. Cas kissed Dean’s hand where his IV was taped and then walked around the bed so he’d be on the side where Dean had the least amount of tubes and wires. The two men held hands and gazed at each other.

“You are a site for sore eyes, Cas,” Dean told him, squeeze his hand and tugging him to guide him to sit down on by Dean’s side.

“I don’t know, Dean, I think I should sit in this chair instead, so I don’t hurt you.” Cas shifted from foot to foot, torn between what was best and what he really wanted.

“I’m fine Cas,” Dean assured him, “sit with me for awhile.”

“You fell through the atmosphere and crashed into the Earth, so I think we can treat you a little gently until all your bumps and bruises heal up.”

“Handle me gently, eh?” Dean asked while a smug smile played on his lips.

Cas rolled his eyes, then he kissed Dean’s other hand and sat gingerly on the bed next to Dean. “How are you feeling?” he asked as he brushed the hair back from Dean’s forehead.

“I’m fine, Baby,” Dean told him leaning into his touch. 

Cas’ lips twitched, “I think you’re still a little out of it if you’re flirting with me and calling me ‘Baby’.”

A nurse stepped into the room giving Cas a stern look. Cas dutifully got off the bed and settled carefully into the chair next to it. “Captain Winchester, it’s time for more Zofran. And you can have some more miso soup if you would like.”

“‘m not hungry, thanks,” Dean told the nurse, “and can we hold off on the anti-nausea meds? They’re making me sleepy, and I wanna to talk to my boyfriend.”

Cas interjected, “Dean you need your meds and you should rest…”

The nurse nodded in agreement.

Dean shot Cas a sly look, “you tryin’ to get out of havin’ a big boy conversation with me Cas?” Then he winked and reached for Cas’ hand again.

Cas smirked and looked at his feet, then he looked at Dean through his eyelashes. The nurse smiled and said, “if you don’t page me in 15 minutes, captain, I’ll be back,” and then he pivoted and left the room. 

“Hey gorgeous, how long do you think flirting with me is going to get you your away?” Cas raised one eyebrow.

Dean chuckled, “I’m guessing forever, probably.” Then he froze.

Cas held his breath watching Dean who was watching him back. 

Dean swallowed hard, and then Cas passed him the water again, mostly to stall for time.

“Cas, I’ve been thinking that you and I should give this a try.”

Cas moved to interrupt again, but Dean waved him off with a comforting smile, “I mean we should try dating. I’ve thought a lot about what you said about us, and I want to get this right with you.” Dean paused to take a breath and another sip of water.

“I know we both like sex, and I’m not ashamed of that, and I dont think you are either. I think that’s something we have going for us. But, I want to date you Cas. I want to get to know you. We can spend time together and do other fun things too,” he got it all out, a little breathily, but he’d managed to say it all. Then he looked at Cas shyly, his Cas who was beaming at him, boyish grin on his face.

“I want that too, Dean. I really want to get to know you too. I have a proposal for you though,” Cas said, his voice low and tentative. 

Dean looked at his hand where the IV was taped to it and ran his fingers over the line in his vein. Then he looked back up at Cas. There were whole worlds in those blue eyes and strength in those shoulders to build a life upon. He took a deep breath and asked, “what have you got?” 

Cas smiled with gentle reassurance, “I don’t want to move in with you to stay, at least not while we’re getting to know each other, but you need help for the next couple of weeks and your best friend’s wife is pregnant,” Cas started talking faster at the bewildered look on Dean’s face, “and your brother is in space, and I think you should let me stay on your couch for a couple of weeks after you get out of this place so that you have help with things around the house.”

“You … you want to sleep on my couch and play nurse?” Dean was blaming the fact that his brain wasn’t tracking on the fact that he was still dizzy and disoriented. Sometimes his limbs wouldn’t do what he wanted them to do, like right now, when he wanted his hand to pull Cas close again.

Cas harrumphed in exasperation. “Not nurse. I want to be your friend. To get the groceries and pick up the prescriptions and drive you to the places you need to go, at least mid-morning to late afternoon. What do you think?” Cas paused to take a breath. He’d been talking a lot and talking fast. “Do you think you can let me help you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there are two chapters left? I originally planned 12, and I'm now looking at 13. I think 13. *crosses fingers* 13


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have been waiting to write chapter 14 for months now. Finally, I reread the whole text and realized this is a nice ending and it doesn’t need a chapter 14. I do have a few thousands words leftover, so I might post that as a coda or something. But for now, thank you for joining me on this journey. Thank you for waiting with me while I struggled with the end. Thank you for reading.

Dean spent eight days in the Clinic, and Cas visited him every day. Dean’s days were crowded with exhausting tests and physical therapy, and Cas was on the overnight schedule, so that they didn’t have much time to talk or catch up. But Cas did manage to swing by for an early lunch every day. Dean was still dealing with nausea and dizziness, so his diet was plain and simple: vegetable soup and broths, buttered noodles, jello, and chilled fruits.

“This is a little like the time I had my tonsils out,” Cas chuckled slurping up the jello while tucked up against Dean’s side in the hospital bed.

“I was going to say this reminds me of undergrad parties,” Dean said, slurping his jello as he slid one hand up Cas’ thigh.

Of course, Cas snorted his jello into his nose at that and slapped his hand down hard on Dean’s before it could crawl any higher. He coughed and sputtered trying to get himself under control.

Dean laughed and added, “and that reminds me of undergrad parties too.”

Cas was mopping at his tearing eyes with a napkin that had little drops of red jello all over it. There were little red drops of jello all over his white oxford shirt.

“You look like a murder victim,” Meg said rolling her chair in through the door. “What are you boys doing in here?”

“Jello shots,” Dean interjected as Cas tried to say, “eating lunch.” They collapsed in laughter with Dean wincing at the sore muscles in his back. Free weights suck.

“Sorry to break up the party, Cas, but the director asked if you were still here that you join him in his office for a conference call with some folks on the Hill.” She twirled her hair around her finger watching them both.

Cas sighed, but Dean yawned and said, “it’s ok if you have to go, I can take a nap.”

Cas leaned down and kissed Dean’s mouth sweetly. “You’re getting out tomorrow, when do I pick you up?”

Dean gave his boyfriend a warm smile, “nah, babe. I’ll be fine getting home on my own. But I’ll text you, and you can call if you’re awake.”

Cas frowned, “no, I’ll come over and make sure you’re settled in, Dean Winchester, so you’d better call me.”

“OK, well I just came here to fetch the chief, not to watch you two fight, so if you’re not going to suck face, Imma just be outside. Laters, Dean,” Meg blew him a kiss and wheeled herself out.

Dean and Cas stared each other down, but finally Dean gave in. “I’ll let you come tuck me in. I’ll even order take out so we can have a planning session while we eat before I get settled in for the night.”

“That’s all I ask,” Cas kissed him again. “Goodbye, Dean.” And he was gone. Dean was asleep just a few minutes later.

***

Cas stripped off his clothes and settled in for a nap as soon as he got home to his apartment. He didn’t even bother going to bed, just stretched out on the couch in his boxers. He spent a few minutes thinking about Dean, who he hadn’t spent a single unmonitored moment with since that last night in the cupola.

Sure, they’d had a few quiet moments in Dean’s room at the clinic, but since the walls were glass with vertical blinds, and a nurse or doctor could burst in at any moment, it didn’t feel very quiet. He drifted off imagining Dean’s soft hair and warm eyes.

***

The beeps of an incoming text message woke Cas from a rapidly retreating dream of himself and Dean in a convertible driving down the coast - wind in their hair, sun on their faces. He fumbled for the phone to see an incoming text from Dean:

**_Dean_ **  
**_I’m ordering Indian what do you want?_ **

Why was he ordering Indian when he’s still on a restricted diet, Cas wondered. Still, his boyfriend could have whatever he wanted, Cas was just relieved he was interested in eating at all after those days of nausea.

 

**_Cas_ **  
**_How do you feel about mild aloo gobi?_ **

 

_**Dean** _  
_**Sounds like it will go well with the mild dhal I’m ordering** _

 

Cas grinned at his phone. Of course Dean was taking care of himself. Then he realized that he could be actually spending time with Dean instead of staring at his text messages when Dean texted back with

 

_**Dean** _  
_**When are you coming over?** _

 

Cas smiled and quickly typed out a message

_**Cas** _  
_**As soon as I put some pants on, I’ll be right over** _

then dropped the phone to get up off the couch, but a message from Dean came right back

 

_**Dean** _  
_**You make my mouth water** _

Something rolled deep in Cas’ belly and a wicked smile crossed his lips

_**Cas** _  
_**I think that’s just the dhal talking** _

And he stared at the ellipses indicating Dean was typing a text

_**Dean** _  
_**Pretty sure I know the difference between you and food, but get your ass over here so we can test that theory** _

He sent a ‘be right there’ text as he laughed aloud at that - dirty-minded boyfriend - reached down to grab his pants, thought better of it, and scooped up the clothes and headed toward the bathroom for a quick shower and shave.

***

Dean opened the door leaning on a fine zebrawood cane. Cas complimented it and learned that it had belonged to Dean’s mentor his first time through spaceflight school. Cas thought that must have been a special gift, but Dean shrugged it off with a shy smile. Shy Dean might be his favorite Dean.

Dean invited him into the beautiful Spanish-style home with its sweeping staircase, high ceilings and wood beam accents. Although it was obviously newly moved-into and largely empty, it was warm and welcoming. Cas loved it, and he told Dean so.

Dean closed the door and pulled Cas along by the hand deeper into the house. Somewhere, a bluesy playlist was playing, Cas thought he recognized Kaleo and then Radio Moscow as he followed Dean gamely down a hall, through double doors, into an entertainment room with a huge flatscreen and an incredibly comfy looking brown, leather sectional. There were guitars in stands in one corner, and a wet bar, beverage fridges, and serving/buffet counter on the wall along the back of the room. There was a gorgeous game table and several other comfy looking armchairs and occasional chairs.

“This room is amazing, Dean,” Cas told him as Dean settled down on the couch. “I didn’t know you played,” gesturing to the guitars.

“Yeah, since I was a kid, but two of those were my grandpa Samuel’s. I have a few more, but I haven’t decided if I’m gonna put them out or not.”

Dean settled down with a sigh on the couch and set his cane safely on the coffee table, then he patted the spot next to him. “Oh, wait, would you mind grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge,” he gestured over his shoulder to the side by side beer and wine refrigerators under the counter.

Cas brought back two cans of local Saint Arnold ‘Art Car IPA’ beer and set them on coasters on the coffee table. Dean patted the couch next to him as Cas smiled down at him. Nope. Cas carefully straddled Dean’s thighs and settled into his lap. Then he leaned in and kissed Dean’s soft warm lips. It was a sweet kiss, gentle, soft and melting, a little exploratory, but mostly just saying an intimate ‘hello.’

Until Dean growled and hauled Cas in, grip firm on his hips, and placed a lip-bruising kiss on Cas’ mouth. Cas welcomed him in all wet heat and sliding tongue, Cas slipped his hands into Dean’s hair, soft and thick with a hint of stiffness from product. Dean growled again and straightened his posture which pulled their chests together and settled Cas firmly against him, Cas grinding his hips a little to make the point that yes, they still had that wild thing that burned white hot between them back in his tiny apartment in Huntsville.

Dean slid his mouth along Cas’ jaw and then to his throat below his ear. Cas moaned softly and then chuckled into Dean’s hair, “you feel so good, baby,” he murmured and was rewarded with a roll of Dean’s hips that pressed them together again, all sinuous grace, Cas hissing at the hard contact against his dick. Dean pressed forward, wrapping Cas tightly in his arms and skimming his throat with his tongue, settled a lavish warm and sucking bite at the juncture of Cas’ neck and shoulder.

Cas was holding Dean’s head to his throat, he felt Dean’s lips move and imagined Dean’s smile against his neck, and his breath hitched, heavy and panting. Cas started working the buttons on his shirt as Dean, with more effort than he’d probably like to admit, twisted their bodies and lay Cas down on the couch beneath him.

Dean was on him, warm and solid, covering him with his long, lean body. Cas threw his head back and let Dean ravish his neck. Dean left marks. He did it years ago, and he was doing it now - “possessive bastard,” Cas murmured.

Dean gave a dark chuckle in response, a wicked sound sliding down Cas’ spine, as Dean whispered in his ear, “show you how possessive I can be,” biting down on the lobe and hands sliding down Cas’ back, fingers firm and hot.

“God,” Cas laid back and gave himself over to Dean as his astronaut boyfriend placed searing kisses and bites down his chest, hands everywhere, arching his lower back and grinding steadily, “just, god,” Cas sighed sliding his hands over Dean’s ass and squeezing.

“M’kay,” Dean said as he sucked Cas’ nipple into his mouth and bit down gently with his teeth to give it a little tug, “but you can just call me Dean,” and then he sucked Cas back into his mouth and Cas arched into it.

“I’d tease you about your ego, but I’ve been in bed with you before, and you earn it,” Cas panted, “...speaking of, where’s your bed? Let’s go there now,” he said eagerly, sitting up with Dean flushed and hot in his lap.

Dean kept pressing in with his lips and tongue as he slowed his kisses down until they were warm, soft and sweet again. “Can’t, baby, we have food coming,” he murmured against Cas’ kiss-bruised lips.

“We can cancel it,” Cas replied sucking Dean’s lower lip into his mouth while pulling him in impossibly closer, fingers trailing down his back beneath his shirt.

Dean pulled back, slow, all slink and masculine power, settling himself less intimately in Cas’ lap. “I got out of hand, I’m sorry, I want to talk to you about the plan before we take,” he gestured with his hand back and forth at chest height, “this between us to bed. If we don’t talk about us now, I’ll fall into bed with you and never crawl out again.”

Cas pouted, “bed first, talk later,” and slid his tongue along the shell of Dean’s ear and he research forward and pulled Dean to him, Dean’s body was so hard and real beneath his hands. God he needed this - needed Dean. “Baby,” he whispered against Dean’s lips before he sucked Dean’s tongue back into his mouth and slid his hands back down Dean’s fine ass.

XAmbassadors played on softly. Cas picked up the song’s rhythm and pushed Dean back down on the couch, sliding against him, hip to hip, hard and wanting. Bodies rolling in a rhythm all their own. Cas heard a moan and couldn’t decide if it was his or Dean’s. His mind drifted on the scent of Dean’s cologne - why was Dean still wearing a shirt. Cas reached for the hem of his tee and pulled it slowly up his chest. Dean sat up abruptly.

Cas was all bewildered blinking eyes. Dean caught both of his hands and kissed the knuckles on the left and then the right. “C’mon Cas, we need to slow this down. I want you, but I want you long term, forever if I can get it. We need to slow down.”

Cas sighed as someone rang the front bell, probably the delivery, and he said, “you’re right. We’re trying to get to know each other better than just how much I need your mouth.”

“Just my mouth?” Dean asked batting his lashes over those heavy-lidded green eyes.

“Fuck you and your gorgeous face,” Cas harrumphed, “I gotta go answer the door. Meet you at the kitchen table?” He asked as he leveraged himself off the couch and began buttoning his shirt as he headed out the doors toward the hall.

“I’ll get more beer,” Dean replied as he rose more slowly, steadying himself, pulling his shirt down over the evidence that this was a difficult decision.

***

“This is great,” Cas said pointing at his dhal with his spoon.

“Yelp says five stars,” Dean replied waving his hand at a binder on the kitchen counter, “Drea and Benny made me a binder of all the local takeaway and delivery restaurants that are four or better stars on Yelp.” He hmm-ed around a bite of cauliflower.

“Do they do dine in? Maybe we could go there on one of our dates?”

Dean nodded around his mouthful of potatoes, and Cas marked it down on the list he’d been writing of Non-sexual Things We Can Do Together.

“Dean, I know you’ve said you don’t want to live together yet, but I want to bring it up one more time because I think you could really use the help around here. It’s a long rehab. I get that you don’t like asking for help, but it wouldn’t be asking - - I want to help.”

Dean swallowed his bite, set his fork down and looked seriously at Cas over the basket of naan. “No, Cas. I know you want to help, and I am grateful for your offering, but I really don’t want to miss the best parts.”

Cas set his spoon down, frustrated, “what best parts? We already have the best parts!”

Dean lifted his hands in supplication, “Baby, I mean I don’t want to go from the new, fun, discovery parts to deciding how we’re going to split bills, whose parents we’re going to for the holidays, how the laundry gets done. I’m 100% into you, and that’s never going to change. I think we’ve proven that this,” he made the together gesture again, “desire between us isn’t going to fade, but we’re only going to be new once. I want to be new. I want all the fun and none of the adulting. Give us a few months to grow together, and then we can take on where we’re spending the night.”

Cas gaped, “you don’t want me to sleep over or you don’t want to stay over at my place?”

Dean soothingly lowered his voice, eyes serious and focused only on Cas’ ocean blues. “Aww, Cas, don’t look at me like that, I’ve never lived on my own before, I don’t know how to do it. And I need to learn how to live on my own before I can live with you. Please understand.”

Cas breathed in deeply and slowly let the breath out. Then he did it again. And again. Dean was being completely reasonable and he was being a child.

“Look, I’m just going to say what I think, ok?” Cas told him, “are you OK with that?”

“That’s all I’ve been asking for Cas,” Dean said sliding his hand in Cas’ on the table, and caressing his fingers with his thumb.

“I want to fuck,” Cas said carefully. “I want to get to know you, be your friend, learn about you, talk late into the night with you, but I want you fucking me into the mattress as often as possible. Unless I’m fucking you… wait, are you still a switch?” Cas asked, eyes narrowing.

Dean felt a small chuckle escape his chest, Cas was like Sam, they both should have been lawyers the way they negotiated all in and with all the hardball. “I’m still switch, are you?” Dean asked as he tangled their feet together beneath the table.

Cas waved him off, rolling his eyes in an “of course, always,” expression as he charged on, “we’re not kids, I’m not a Victorian, and I sure as hell have waited for you long enough, Mr My Home Address Is In Space.”

“Jesus, Cas, say what you really think,” Dean laughed, swallowing the rest of his beer.

Cas was wound up now, “I’m saying, you fucking gorgeous animal, that I know that part of you, like biblical know, and I need to keep on knowing, you know?”

“So you want to fuck me?”

“All the time.”

“But you want to be my friend and do fun things with me?”

“Yes, as long as they can also involve me swallowing down your perfect cock.”

Dean nodded once. “That can be arranged,” he said all predatory teeth and dark eyes.

Cas swallowed once but charged ahead, checking his notes: “so we go on one date a week, once a week, for sure, we spend an evening together talking or playing games or something, and we don’t sleep over except on date night, is that about it?”

Dean squeezed his hand in agreement, then he added, “for the first three months. Then we have another meeting.”

“Are we going to make these relationship meetings a regular thing?” Cas pondered, chewing the cap of the pen he was writing with. Yeah, Dean thought, Cas had that oral fixation thing down.

“I think we should consider it,” Dean responded scooting his chair a little closer to Cas’ and sliding his hand down Cas’ thigh. Cas shivered in response. Dean continued, “we’re us. We’d rather fuck it out than deal with it, so let’s have regular meetings to sort shit out. Every three months for the first year or two, then once a year until the kids go off to college. Then we can renegotiate.” Dean snickered as Cas went still.

“You really want those kids?” Cas asked, suddenly shy and hesitant.

“Me and kiddos are a package deal, Cas, are you still on board?” Dean asked squeezing Cas’ thigh near his crotch.

“You know I am,” Cas placed his hand on Dean’s and helped him slide it the rest of the way. “I just thought that might have been a dream I had.”

“It’s a dream we have, Cas,” Dean whispered against his lips, kissing him. “Let’s go to bed.”

Later that night as Cas slowly pressed into Dean, hot and needy, he thought, he must have been wishing on stars again, because this was definitely a dream.


End file.
